On a Fly-Leaf of Riley's “Afterwhiles.”

UNTO him alone who strays Sometimes through the yesterdays, Lingering long in wood and field, Is the meaning all revealed Of these songs. Adown the rhymes Runs a path to bygone times; But 'tis found by those alone, Who the fresh green hills have known, And have felt the tender mood Of the country solitude; Who through lanes of pink peach blooms Used to see the lilac's plumes Nodding welcome by the door Where the home-folks come no more. Blest the singer, then, who leads Back again through clover meads, 'Til old scenes we seem to see, Fair as once they used to be. Who can call from years long gone, Friends we trusted, leaned upon; For whose sake we learned to bless Toilworn hands and homespun dress. As he sings of them, and thus Wafts the pure air back to us Of the fields, there comes again Childhood's faith in God and man.