The flowers are gay in gardens that you knew, The woods you loved are sweet with summer rain, The fields you trod are empty now, but you Will never come again
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The twilight skies are tender with your smile, The stars look down with eyes for which I yearn, I dream that you are with me all the while— But you will not return
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He faces not the guns he thrilled to hear, Nor sees the skyline red with fires of Hell; He looks for ever towards that dear home land He loved, but bade a resolute farewell