Forty Years Ago

I’ve wandered to the village, Tom,
I’ve sat beneath the tree,
Upon the schoolhouse playground,
That sheltered you and me;
But none were left to greet me, Tom,
And few were left to know,
Who played with me upon the green,
Just forty years ago.
The grass was just as green, Tom,
Barefooted boys at play
Were sporting, just as we did then,
With spirits just as gay.
But the master sleeps upon the hill,
Which, coated o’er with snow,
Afforded us a sliding place,
Some forty years ago.
The old schoolhouse is altered some;
The benches are replaced
By new ones very like the same
Our jackknives had defaced.
But the same old bricks are in the wall,
The bell swings to and fro;
Its music’s just the same, dear Tom,
‘T was forty years ago.
The spring that bubbled ‘neath the hill,
Close by the spreading beech,
Is very low; ‘t was once so high
That we could almost reach;
And kneeling down to take a drink,
Dear Tom, I started so,
To think how very much I’ve changed
Since forty years ago.
Near by that spring, upon an elm,
You know, I cut your name,
Your sweetheart’s just beneath it, Tom;
And you did mine the same.
Some heartless wretch has peeled the bark;
‘T was dying sure, but slow,
Just as that one whose name you cut
Died forty years ago.
My lids have long been dry, Tom,
But tears came in my eyes:
I thought of her I loved so well,
Those early broken ties.
I visited the old churchyard,
And took some flowers to strew
Upon the graves of those we loved
Just forty years ago.
Some are in the churchyard laid,
Some sleep beneath the sea;
And none are left of our old class
Excepting you and me.
And when our time shall come, Tom,
And we are called to go,
I hope we’ll meet with those we loved
Some forty years ago.