Eventide Poem by David Smart

Across the misty fields at even tide
I hear the bells from by the riverside
And feel the chilly Autumn breezes blow
Like whispered memories of long ago.

Down by that tree an old thatched cottage stood,
Its walls of plaster daub inset in wood
Its door so low I had to bend my head
Its windows small, criss-crossed with lead.

A garden small and neat where roses grew
A hawthorn hedge, a gate I entered through
A bed of herbs whose perfume filled the air
A border set with country flowers fair.

The well with water deep and cool and sweet
Some apple trees with mushrooms round their feet
And from a pear tree branch there hung a swing
By current bushes, set out in a ring.

And from a window looked an old familiar face
Wrinkled and wise and kind and full of grace
A voice that welcomed me and called me in
When I was Oh! so young and free of sin.

It's long gone now, that well remembered cott,
And gone that kindly soul, but not forgot.
I hope that when my life's flame flickers dim
I'll find them once again, and enter in.