How slight a thing may set one’s fancy drifting
  Upon the dead sea of the Past!—A view—
Sometimes an odor—or a rooster lifting
  A far-off “Ooh! ooh-ooh!”

And suddenly we find ourselves astray
  In some wood’s-pasture of the Long Ago,—
Or idly dream again upon a day
  Of rest we used to know.

I bit an apple but a moment since...