Though Memories Of What Was

It has been at least twenty six years since i've seen
The bluebells in bloom on mossy ditch of bohreen
When hawthorns are in their white blossoms of May
And wildfowers are in bloom in old fields far away
Though the river he sings  in to me not anywhere near
The song of the dipper i fancy i hear
The dark brown river bird with breast as white as snow
He sings on a rock around where babbling waters flow
I never may walk in the old fields again
But the memories of what was are mine to retain
Of where i grew to love  Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways to me  remains a source of joy
The  now is all that does matter it does seem this way
Though memories of what was in our thoughts do stay.