Mild the mist upon the hill
Telling not of storms tomorrow;
No, the day has wept its fill
Spent its store of silent sorrow

O, I'm gone back to the days of youth
I am a child once more
And 'neath my father's sheltering roof
And near the old hall door

I watch this cloudy evening fall
After a day of rain;
Blue mists, sweet mists of summer pall
The horizon's mountain chain

The damp stands on the long green grass
As thick as morning's tears
And dreamy scents of fragrance pass
That breathe of other years