Rambling I looked for an old abode

Where, years back, one had lived I knew;

Its site a dwelling duly showed,

   But it was new.

I went where, not so long ago,

The sod had riven two breasts asunder;

Daisies throve gaily there, as though

   No grave were under.

I walked along a terrace where

Loud children gambolled in the sun;

The figure that had once sat there

   Was missed by none.

Life laughed and moved on unsubdued,

I saw that Old succumbed to Young:

’Twas well.  My too regretful mood

   Died on my tongue.