 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
49
AULD LANG SYNE.
I love the pleasures which old faces wear;Old friends, our second selves, reduplicates,
Partners in genial loves and healthy hates;
Who, in our joys and sorrows taking share,
Make the one life seem many; mirrors are
To show its many-sidedness. The states
And stages of our being, its kind fates,
Or other, of old places haunt the air:
A local presence. Most I love of all
Old books; those missals rare, whose every page
Old Time “illuminates;” full on which fall,
As thro' old painted windows, rich with age,
The many-coloured tints; which raise our small,
Poor life, and school it on the world's great stage.
| Stones from The Quarry | |