The Old Days

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The old days--the far days--
  The overdear and fair!--
The old days--the lost days--
  How lovely they were!
The old days of Morning,
  With the dew-drench on the flowers
And apple-buds and blossoms
  Of those old days of ours.

Then was the _real_ gold
  Spendthrift Summer flung;
Then was the _real_ song
  Bird or Poet sung!
There was never censure then,--
  Only honest praise--
And all things were worthy of it
  In the old days.

There bide the true friends--
  The first and the best;
There clings the green grass
  Close where they rest:
Would they were here? No;--
  Would _we_ were _there_!...
The old days--the lost days--
  How lovely they were!

© James Whitcomb Riley