The Old House

I have been writing a memoir of my childhood, many years of which were spend in this house in Lynbrook, Long Island. There's an Irish song that comes to mind now when I think of :

"The Old House"

Lonely I wander through scenes of my childhood,

Memory the happy days of yore brought back.

Gone now the old folk, the house stands deserted,

No light in the window, no welcome at the door.

Here's where the children played games on the heather,

That's where they paddled their boats on the barren.

Where are they now?

Some are dead, some have wandered.

No more to these homes will the children come.

Lonely the house now and lonely the moorland.

The children have vanished, the old folks are gone.

Why stand I here like a ghost and a shadow?

It's time I stopped crying, it's time I moved on.