The Lonesome Meadow

Beside that lonesome meadow where the bluebells used to grow there lies a lonesome pathway that wanders to and fro where afternoon talks and moonlit walks would while away the hours and there a bed of softest grass and lightly scented flowers How lonesome now that meadow where the bluebells used to grow how lonesome is that pathway that wanders to and fro no more the talks and moonlit walks that while away the hours how lonesome is that bed of grass that so often we called ours.