To Scenes I Used To Know.

I can see the back-log blazing and the sparkles take their flight
Up the cavernous old chimney on a merry Christmas night;
I can see the old folks smiling and the children's cheeks aglow,
And a saucy maiden standing there beneath the mistletoe;
I can hear the laughter mingle with the strains of music sweet
As we tripped the light fantastic with the "many-twinkling feet;"
I can see the moonlight gleaming through the trees upon the snow,
When memory takes me back again to scenes I used to know.

I can see the candles burning bright upon the Christmas tree;
I can see the presents handed round, and hear the shouts of glee,
And from the buried years there comes a-stealing on the heart
A something indefinable which bids the tear-drop start;
I can see the blue smoke curling, through the little strip of wood
Between the winding turnpike road and where the farmhouse stood;
I can see the colts a-playing, I can hear the cattle low--
When memory takes me back again to scenes I used to know.

I can see it all when fancy weaves its magic with a dream,
And I hear the tones from voices like the murmur of a stream;
And oh, the heart seems young again and from its anguish free
When I gaze upon these pictures that are ever dear to me;
Then I see the darkies dancing, I can hear the fiddle ring
As they gathered in the cabin and they cut the pigeon-wing;
I can smell the 'possum roasting, I can see the cider flow,
When memory takes me back again to scenes I used to know.