Old Song

Tis a dull sight   To see the year dying, When winter winds   Set the yellow wood sighing:     Sighing, O sighing! When such a time cometh   I do retire Into an old room   Beside a bright fire:     O, pile a bright fire! And there I sit   Reading old things, Of knights and lorn damsels,   While the wind sings—     O, drearily sings! I never look out   Nor attend to the blast; For all to be seen   Is the leaves falling fast:     Falling, falling! But close at the hearth,   Like a cricket, sit I, Reading of summer   And chivalry—     Gallant chivalry! Then with an old friend   I talk of our youth— How 'twas gladsome, but often   Foolish, forsooth:     But gladsome, gladsome! Or, to get merry,   We sing some old rhyme That made the wood ring again   In summer time—     Sweet summer time! Then go we smoking,   Silent and snug: Naught passes between us,   Save a brown jug—     Sometimes! And sometimes a tear   Will rise in each eye, Seeing the two old friends   So merrily—     So merrily! And ere to bed   Go we, go we, Down on the ashes   We kneel on the knee,     Praying together! Thus, then, live I   Till, 'mid all the gloom, By Heaven! the bold sun   Is with me in the room     Shining, shining! Then the clouds part,   Swallows soaring between; The spring is alive,   And the meadows are green! I jump up like mad,   Break the old pipe in twain, And away to the meadows,   The meadows again!