"Memories Far Afield"
I recount the distant years , faded and so far from here , where we would run and play all day in golden sun , and sandlot clay.
On diamond green , in Summer's sun we'd revel till the day was done , then pedal home to beat the dusk , which stole our precious childhood light.
The day then spent , our supper done , we'd rest ourselves as night did come , and lay our heads on pillows soft , to dream about tomorrow's fun.
We'd lay in bed , and plot all night , to set our urgent schedule right , so's not to waste one moment bright ; to seize the day from dawn 'til night!
Came the morn' we'd heed the call , remount our steeds with bats and balls , then sojourn back to that bright place , which in my heart I still embrace.
So if we seem to act unwise , as grown up men who play like boys ; give pardon friend don't feel aghast at our great reach to touch the past.
Those days were short so long ago , where we would run , and hit , and throw and in the twilight plan again we thought ourselves such little men.
For one more chance of Summer's light , I would brave the darkest night , and in the Autunm of my years a taste for glory quells the fear , of more days past than lie ahead
for that boy dwells within my head.