From the outskirts of the town, br Where of old the mile-stone stood, br Now a stranger, looking down br I behold the shadowy crown br Of the dark and haunted wood. br br Is it changed, or am I changed? br Ah! the oaks are fresh and green, br But the friends with whom I ranged br Through their thickets are estranged br By the years that intervene. br br Bright as ever flows the sea, br Bright as ever shines the sun, br But alas! they seem to me br Not the sun that used to be, br Not the tides that used to run.