Swiftly wound the silver river
Where the grass grew deep,
Through the mystic shade and silence
That the woodlands keep;
Underneath the chestnuts straying,
(Trembling fans o'erhead,)
With the creamy blossoms playing,
How my bright hours sped!
As a dream when one awaketh
Seems to me that day,
Chestnut blossoms, sliding river,
Fairyland of May!
City walls close in behind me,
Summer joys are o'er;
Where the sunshine used to find me
I shall stray no more.
Other hands will pull the blossoms,
Cones of pink and white;
Mine are worn with daily labor,
Tired from morn till night
Still I muse, but not in sadness,
On those bygone days;
Here my autumn hath its gladness
Worth a thousand Mays!
