O Where Is The Wild Wet Night?

O where is the wild wet night where we walked
In friendship's youthful bloom?
O where the dark lane, the black winter woods
The moorland's lonely gloom?

O where flew the friends of smooth ruddy cheek
Of laughter without guile?
Whose joy was to tarry in talk at the gate
The hour away to while.

O from whence came the silver that now streaks thy hair
The furrows that mark thy brow?
From whence came the cares that say "Hurry to thy hearth"
When November's wind doth blow?