If with departed souls the power doth dwell
Again to visit scenes once loved so well,
Thou wilt not come when moonlight floods the skies,
When only sadness wakes, and longing sighs.
No! when the summer's morning softly breaks,
When the blue sky is free from cloudy flakes,
When wave the corn-fields high of golden hue,
Enwoven bright with flowerets red and blue,
Then through the fields thou'lt wander as erewhile
Greeting each reaper with a friendly smile.