Explore "Where the Children Used to Play" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The old farm-home is Mother's yet and mine, / And filled it is with plenty and to spare, -- / But we are lonely here in life's decline, / Though fortune smiles around us everywhere: / We look across the gold / Of the harvests, as of old -- / The corn, the fragrant clover, and the hay / But most we turn our gaze, / As with eyes of other days, / To the orchard where the children used to play.
O from our life's full measure / And rich hoard of worldly treasure / We often turn our weary eyes away, / And hand in hand we wander / Down the old path winding yonder / To the orchard where the children used to play