Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/173

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OFTEN, musing, wander back to days long since gone by, And far-off scenes and long-lost forms arise to fancy's eye. A group familiar now I see, who all but one are fled,— My mother, sister Jane, myself, and dear old Uncle Ned. I'll tell you how I see them now. First, mother in her chair Sits knitting by the parlor fire, with anxious matron air; My sister Jane, just nine years old, is seated at her feet. With look demure, as if she, too, were thinking how to meet