i remember, i remember,

the house where i was born,

the little window where the sun

came peeping in at morn;

he never came a wink too soon,

nor brought too long a day,

but now, i often wish the night

had borne my breath away!

i remember, i remember,

the roses, red and white,

the violets, and the lily-cups,

those flowers made of light!

the lilacs where the robin built,

and where my brother set

the laburnum on his birthday —

the tree is living yet!

i remember, i remember,

where i was used to swing,

and thought the air must rush as fresh

to swallows on the wing;

my spirit flew in feathers then,

that is so heavy now,

and summer pools could hardly cool

the fever on my brow!

i remember, i remember,

the fir trees dark and high;

i used to think their slender tops

were close against the sky:

it was a childish ignorance,

but now ’tis little joy

to know i’m farther off from heav’n

than when i was a boy.