I remember

I remember, I remember the house where I was born, the little window where the sun came peeping in at morn; he never came a wink too soon nor brought too long a day; but now, I often wish the night had borne my breath away.
I remember, I remember the roses red and white, the violets and the lily-cups— those flowers made of light! The lilacs where the robin built, and where my brother set The laburnum on his birthday,— the tree is living yet!
I remember, I remember where I used to swing, and thought the air must rush as fresh to swallows on the wing; my spirit flew in feathers then that is so heavy now, and summer pools could hardly cool the fever on my brow.
I remember, I remember the fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops were close against the sky: it was a childish ignorance, but now this little joy to know I’m farther off from heaven than when I was a boy.