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The Vanished Country

From The Birmingham Age Herald, July 7, 1914. By Grantland Rice.

Back in the Vanished Country
    There’s a cabin in a lane,
Across the yellow sunshine
    And the silver of the rain;
A cabin, summer-shaded,
    Where the maples whispered low
Dream stories of the world winds
    That a fellow used to know;
And it’s queer that, turning gray,
    Still a fellow looks away
To a land he knows has vanished
    Down the Path of Yesterday.

Back in the Vanished Country
    There’s an old-time swinging gate
Through the early dusk of summer
    Where a girl has come to wait;
And her hair is like the sundrift
    From the heart of summer skies,
While the blue of God’s wide heaven
    Crowns the splendor of her eyes;
And it’s queer that, turning gray,
    Still a fellow looks away
To a girl he knows has vanished
    Down the Path of Yesterday.

Back in the Vanished Country
    There’s a dream that used to be
Of Fame within the city
    And a name beyond the sea;
A dream of laurel wreathings
    That came singing through the light
The story of the glory
    Of the victor in the fight;
And it’s queer that, worn and gray,
    Still a fellow looks away
To a dream he knows has vanished
    Down the Path of Yesterday.

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