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All these are vanished clean away, And the old manse is changed to-day; It wears an altered face And shields a stranger race. The river, on from mill to mill, Flows past our childhood's garden still; But ah! we children never more Shall watch it from the water-door! Below the yew—it still is there— Our phantom voices haunt the air As we were still at play, And I can hear them call and say: How far is it to Babylon?&apos; Ah, far enough, my dear, Far, far enough from here— Yet you have farther gone! Can I get there by candlelight?&apos; So goes the old refrain. I do not know—perchance you might— But only, children, hear it right, Ah, never to return again! The eternal dawn, beyond a doubt, Shall break on hill and plain, And put all stars and candles out, Ere we be young again.