O, Many a year elapsed in the days gone by,
The hide and seek with pals, and the tug-of-war through my little try;
The twitter of the swallow, and the whistle of the quail,
As piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale;
When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue was in the sky,
And my happy heart was brimmed over in the days gone by.

O, many a year elapsed in the days gone by,
The music of the laughing lip, and the luster of the eye;
The childish faith in fairy tales and the magician's magic ring,
The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in everything;
When life was like a story, holding neither sob nor sigh,
In the golden olden of the days gone by.