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    Chronicles of the Good old days

    O, Many a year elapsed in the days gone by,
    The hide and seek with pals, and the tug-of-war through my little try;
    The twitter of the swallow, and the whistle of the quail,
    As piped across the meadows sweet as any nightingale;
    When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue was in the sky,
    And my happy heart was brimmed over in the days gone by.

    O, many a year elapsed in the days gone by,
    The music of the laughing lip, and the luster of the eye;
    The childish faith in fairy tales and the magician's magic ring,
    The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in everything;
    When life was like a story, holding neither sob nor sigh,
    In the golden olden of the days gone by.

    - Patitapaban Sahoo

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