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We wandered in the mountains, And we played beneath the fountains
That tumbled down the overhanging steep, And we swam amid the driftings Of the autumn's somber siftings,
From the trees of woodland pastures, neck deep.
Then the winter came, and flurries Of the snow, in nights and scurries,
Laid the ermine covers deep upon the earth; And the woods and halls were ringing With our happy shouts and singing,
The echoes of the season's joy and mirth.
But those years succeeding morrows Brought care, and age, and sorrows.
And the struggles life allots to earnest men; They are mountains that divide us, And the fountains oft deride us
When we seek to bring dear boyhood back again.
But the years have come unceasing, Bringing joy, and care, increasing,
And there's compensation sweet within it all; For love from loved ones found us, And that fond delight surrounds us,
As a vine-clad, safe and flower-covered wall.
So, here's to you, my brother; Though far from one another,