And took the mule colt, too;

For fashion then did not beguile

A mother's heart with worldly wile,

Ah! happy days agone!

Oh! days no more when mothers wore

Sunhood and riding skirt,

And fathers dressed their Sunday best,

A plain check-cotton-shirt,—

Ah! happy days agone!

The sunlight dances on the hills

That shelter Waterloo;

I see the gold of daffodils

That bloom the meadow through—

The hour has come, for meeting's broke,

And now the simple country folk

Are leaving Waterloo!

The horses neigh; away, away!

Away, but not for home;

Grandma to-day will laugh and say,

"My boy, my boy has come."

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