by Aline Kilmer
I went back to a place I knew
When I was very, very small;
The same old yellow roses grew
Against the same old wall.
Each thing I knew was in its place;
The well, the white stones by the road,
The box-hedge with its cobweb lace,
And a small spotted toad.
And yet the place seemed changed and still;
The house itself had shrunk, I know.
And then my eyes began to fill—
For I had always loved it so.