The Old Pasture

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jun 17, 1915

I’VE been dreaming, dear, of childhood, and the early bygone days, I’ve been back among the early scenes I knew; I have trod the fields and woodlands and the half-forgotten ways, Through the pasture where the pennyroyal grew.

The pines are on the hillside where cattle used to feed, The orchard trees have shrunk to one or two; The old cellar now is darkened with tree and vine and weed, In the pasture where the pennyroyal grew.

I have heard again the tinkling of the bell upon the cow, As I urged her lazy footsteps through the dew, With a tender hand upon her—I can feel her motion now— Toward the pasture where the pennyroyal grew.

Where I called her through the bushes, now is forest dense and high, Where the sunlight glints below the whole day through; And the trout brook is still singing through the valley land near by, In the pasture where the pennyroyal grew.

We are older grown, my darling, since those pleasant bygone days, And the early friends now left us are but few; But I’m younger to have traced again the half-forgotten ways, Through the pasture where the pennyroyal grew.

— Lights of Home.