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.