Those Days Are Gone

Those days are gone
When the blue swan
Sung a sweet song
At the break of dawn.

Those days are gone
When noons were spent
Weaving tales of
Fairies and friends.

Those days are gone
When dusk was seen
Through the rickety branches
Of the Holy Green.

And now I pine
To trace the notes
Of that silent song,
To bathe in the rays
Of my faded childhood dawn,
To see my time fly away
In the charms of fairylands,
To cherish the betrothal
Of the pink and amber horizon,
To discover the hidden treasure
In the old, abandoned church,
To breathe for once, a fresh gust of air
Bereft of all the worldly despair.

As I gather the fallen leaves
The foliage that adored my childhood tree,
I try to fill the emptiness that says
Those days are gone.