I went by footpath and by stile

   Beyond where bustle ends,

Strayed here a mile and there a mile

   And called upon some friends.

On certain ones I had not seen

   For years past did I call,

And then on others who had been

   The oldest friends of all.

It was the time of midsummer

   When they had used to roam;

But now, though tempting was the air,

   I found them all at home.

I spoke to one and other of them

   By mound and stone and tree

Of things we had done ere days were dim,

   But they spoke not to me.