Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight By Charles Mackay |
| 3 |  |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
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| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
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| XXV. |
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| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX.. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXXV. |
| LXXXVI. |
| LXXXVII. |
| LXXXVIII. |
| LXXXIX. |
| XC. |
| XCI. |
| XCII. |
| XCIII. |
| XCIV. |
| XCV. |
| XCVI. |
| XCVII. |
| XCVIII. |
| XCIX. |
| C. |
| CI. |
| CII. |
| CIII. |
| CIV. |
| CV. |
| CVI. |
| CVII. |
| CVIII. |
| CIX. |
| CX. |
| CXI. |
| CXII. |
| CXIII. |
| CXIV. |
| CXV. |
| CXVI. |
| CXVII. |
| CXVIII. |
| CXIX. |
| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
| CXXII. |
| CXXIII. |
| CXXIV. |
| CXXV. |
| CXXVI. |
 | CXXVII. |
| 3 | CXXVIII. | CXXVIII. THE GOURD AND THE PALM.
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| CXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
| CXXXII. |
 | Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight |  |
170
CXXVIII. THE GOURD AND THE PALM 
.
“How old art thou?” said the garrulous 
gourd
As o'er the palm-tree's crest it poured
Its spreading leaves and tendrils fine,
And hung a bloom in the morning shine.
“A hundred years!” the palm-tree sighed.
“And I,” the saucy gourd replied,
“Am at the most a hundred hours,
And overtop thee in the bowers!”
gourd
As o'er the palm
-tree's crest it poured
Its spreading leaves and tendrils fine,
And hung a bloom in the morning shine.
“A hundred years!”
the palm-tree sighed.
“And I,” the saucy gourd replied,
“Am at the most a hundred hours,
And overtop thee in the bowers!”
Through all the palm-tree's leaves there went
A tremor as of self-content.
“I live my life,” it whispering said;
“See what I see, and count the dead;
And every year of all I've known,
A gourd above my head has grown,
And made a boast like thine to-day,
And here I stand—but where are they?”
A tremor as of self-content.
“I live my life,” it whispering said;
“See what I see, and count the dead;
And every year of all I've known,
A gourd above my head has grown,
And made a boast like thine to-day,
And here I stand—but where are they?”
| Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight | |