I never chased the city lights -
I dreamt of woods and shade.
The brooks and streams were my delight -
The meadows and the glades.
Such happy times,
We've left behind
That will not come again.
I used to spy the bending boughs
Of pregnant trees and smile.
But apples rot and then are not
Alive or worth our while.
The daisy chains
The children made
Are now made in denial.
I do believe eternity
Was held within our hands:
The verdant hills, the sapphire sea -
The beaches' golden sands.
The larks are gone
And summer's song
Has left our sorry lands.
Such happy times,
We've left behind
That will not come again.
