  After years of feverish wandering, Long years of loss and pain, It comes like the tenderest wooing, The memory of Fullmer’s Lane. There was a winding way through the forest That I lovingly recall again— A wild wealth of nature’s loveliness Leading onward to Fullmer’s Lane. And how often, O heart! how often In the bright years that have flown away, When all life was a sunny gladness, A full song of the summer day, We went with a light-bounding footstep, At morn or the calm afternoon, Along the way so sweet and so fair, Wreathed o’er by a billow of bloom. There was a wealth of song from the glades, And by upland and shadowed hill; By lonely tarn and the winding stream, And the tiniest silver rill. The robin, bluebird, and bobolink, And the sweet redbird soft and low; The quail, with its festive shout “Bob White,” Broke in on the rhythmic flow. And we burst from the shadowy wood Overlooking the meadowy plain, And gained the home by the pebbly stream Bordering on Fullmer’s Lane. In that rural home so dear; Alight with love and the jewel content, And the essence of right good cheer. And we quaffed from the delicious spring Bubbling up from the dark ravine; And played on the banks, sloping away, And bathed in the running stream. We chased the squirrel from tree to tree, And joined in the bobolink’s song That rose from the meadows joyously And gaily followed along. We saw the sun in the west sink low, And the warm moon rise over the plain, And listened to the winds go by, And knew not a shadow of pain. But partings come, and the world rolls on, ’Tis ever, aye, ever the same; And relentless fate dissevered the ties That drew us to Fullmer’s Lane. After the flight of pitiless years, With heart grown heavy with pain, I seek for the beautiful winding way That led us to Fullmer’s Lane. The stately forest is swept away— Not a vestige of it can we trace As we look for the entrance to Fullmer’s Lane And the old familiar place. The day is as lovely as ever June In its wealth of roses can be, But no friends are left by the pebbly stream To cheer or to welcome me. And the fond heart will murmur its pain; Farewell! for strangers but mock us here; Farewell, then, to Fullmer’s Lane! |
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