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.