It befell me on a day-
Long ago; ah, long ago!
When my life was in its May,
In the May-month of the year.
All the orchards were like snow
With pink-flushes here and there;
And a bird sang building near-
And a bird sang far away,
Where the early twilight lay.
Long ago; ah, long ago!
Youth’s sweet May passed quite away-
May that never more is May.
And I hear the nightingale
Singing far adown the vale
Where the early twilight lies:
Singing sad, and sweet, and strong;
And I wonder if the song
May be heard in Paradise!
