Perhaps I Will Never Walk In The Old Fields Again

Perhaps i will never walk in the old fields again Or see Clara half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain Or hear the ripple of the silver tongued rill Flowing to the river down the field by the hill Or hear the dark brown bird of breast white as snow The water bird dipper one of most country people know Is singing above River Finnow on low branch of tree In waterways a bird one often hear and see Only memories of such beauty i do retain And when i visualize i see the old fields again In the green countryside where the waterways meet In view of the hills near the Town of Millstreet But the now is all that does matter as the wise one does say And the past it has gone and the old fields are far away.