Should past horizons be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Nay, such a sight can’t be forgot
When etched upon your mind.
When wand’ring ‘bout the hillsides
With thorns and vines without end,
You ne’er think bout those memories
But what’s next around the bend!
For always will there be some mud
And perhaps a bug or two,
But those recede in memory’s eye
Next to wonders old and new.