I went by footpath and by stile
        Beyond where bustle ends,
Strayed here a mile and there a mile
        And called upon some friends.

On certain ones I had not seen
        For years past did I call,
And then on others who had been
        The oldest friends of all.

It was the time of midsummer
        When they had used to roam;
But now, though tempting was the air,
        I found them all at home.

I spoke to one and other of them
        By mound and stone and tree
Of things we had done ere days were dim,
        But they spoke not to me.