Perhaps I Will Never Walk In The Old Fields Again

Perhaps i will never walk in the old fields again
Or see Clara half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
Or hear the ripple of the silver tongued rill
Flowing to the river down the field by the hill
Or hear the dark brown bird of breast white as snow
The water bird dipper one of most country people know
Is singing above River Finnow on low branch of tree
In waterways a bird one often hear and see
Only memories of such beauty i do retain
And when i visualize i see the old fields again
In the green countryside where the waterways meet
In view of the hills near the Town of Millstreet
But the now is all that does matter as the wise one does say
And the past it has gone and the old fields are far away.