Suggested On Returning Home For My Holidays By An Old Portrait Of The Poet, Which Hangs In My Room. Old Friend! - I Always Loved Thee; In Childhood'S Early Days, Delighted I Would Listen With Laughter To Thy Lays. And Better Still I Loved Thee, To Riper Boyhood Grown; Because Thou Wert The Pride Of The Land That's Part My Own. But With Devotion Deepened I Greet Thee Now Anew, Of Love, Because Thou Singest So Simple, Sweet, And True.