I try to tread the "narrow way;"
I stumble oft I know:
I miss--how much!--the helping hand
Of twenty years ago.
Mary--(Mary I will call you--
'Tis not the old-time name)
Sainted Mary--blue-eyed Mary--
Are you in heaven the same?
Are your eyes as bright and beautiful,
Your cheeks as full of glow,
As when the school-boy kissed you, May,
Twenty years ago?
How we swung upon the grape-vine
Down by the Genesee;
And I caught the speckled trout for you,
While you gathered flowers for me:
How we rambled o'er the meadows
With brows and cheeks aglow,
And hearts like God's own angels--
Twenty years ago.
[Illustration: HOW, WE SWUNG UPON THE GRAPE-VINE DOWN BY THE GENESEE,
AND I CAUGHT THE SPECKLED TROUT FOR YOU, WHILE YOU GATHERED FLOWERS FOR
ME]
How our young hearts grew together
Until they beat as one;
Distrust it could not enter;
Cares and fears were none.
All my love was yours, dear Mary,
'Twas boyish love, I know;
But I ne'er have loved as then I loved--
Twenty years ago.
How we pictured out the future--
The golden coming years,
And saw no cloud in all our sky,
No gloomy mist of tears;
But ah--how vain are human hopes!
The angels came--and O--
They bore my darling up to heaven--
Twenty years ago.
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