Memory Lane

I wrote this poem last night during a rare flash of inspiration and a touch of sentimentalism. This is the third I've ever written and I've never taken a poetry class, so please forgive me, readers, if it's rubbish. I'd appreciate any thoughts or comments on it from those of you who enjoy poetry and/or know how to do it properly.

Memory Lane

Take the path of that less trodden,

Follow the road to days of yore-

Mark the lane which breathes of stillness,

Plunder the trove of memory's store.

Hark the days of yesteryear!

Note the scrawling ivy crawling,

Young were the days it calls to mind.

Reaching for folk who toiling built it,

On to bygone passers find.

Hear the raven croaking skyward,

Oh! That voice which rings of age.

First flight's feathers were his raiment 

When new dawn marked nature's page.

Creaking whispers gnarled oak,

Grasping breezes in his hands

Wonder as while never knowing

Tales he's kept of changing lands.

Lake of ripples wind caressing,

Silent slithers into stream.

While the silver fountains falling

Music drifting into dream.

Apple blossom passes scepter

Crown'd the Summer, then the Fall,

Fades each glow of Winter's glory

Year in year through Hist'ry's Hall.

Greet each dawn as stretching golden

To the yawning radiant eve,

Growing sapling reaches full-tree

Fleeting moments ne'er retrieve.

Hark the days of yesteryear!

Yea, hark the days of yesteryear. 

~