Orellana and Other Poems By J. Logie Robertson |
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THE AULD HOOSE AND THE NEW. |
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 | Orellana and Other Poems |  |
123
XII. THE AULD HOOSE AND THE NEW.
Click go the balls in the billiard-room,
The glasses clink at the bar,
Mine host at the door looks into the gloom
—Looks up at the evening star.
The glasses clink at the bar,
Mine host at the door looks into the gloom
—Looks up at the evening star.
That star of old has looked too cold
On a Cæsar's cinctured brow
To envy the gold whose links enfold
The breast of a Boniface now!
And covet not, mine honest host,
The treasury of heaven:
'Tis to enrich some beggar's ghost
Yon gold will yet be given.
On a Cæsar's cinctured brow
To envy the gold whose links enfold
The breast of a Boniface now!
And covet not, mine honest host,
The treasury of heaven:
'Tis to enrich some beggar's ghost
Yon gold will yet be given.
And here it comes adown the street,
Slips into the window blaze
And sings with tremulous voice and sweet
A song of eldern days.
Slips into the window blaze
And sings with tremulous voice and sweet
A song of eldern days.
124
The auld house, the auld house,
What tho' the rooms were wee?
Kind hearts were dwellin' there
And bairnies fu' o' glee!
What tho' the rooms were wee?
Kind hearts were dwellin' there
And bairnies fu' o' glee!
The mavis still doth sweetly sing,
The bluebell sweetly blaw,
The bonnie Earn's clear-windin' still—
But the auld house is awa!
The bluebell sweetly blaw,
The bonnie Earn's clear-windin' still—
But the auld house is awa!
The Auld Hoose to the simple strain
Rises in memory clear;
He sees the round-stone walls again,
In youthful days so dear;
A bent old man with silver hair,
His father! at the plough—
God! what avails the anguished prayer
That he were living now?
Rises in memory clear;
He sees the round-stone walls again,
In youthful days so dear;
A bent old man with silver hair,
His father! at the plough—
God! what avails the anguished prayer
That he were living now?
He looks out into the vocal gloom,
But his thoughts are wandering far,
While the balls go click in the billiard-room
And the glasses clink at the bar.
But his thoughts are wandering far,
While the balls go click in the billiard-room
And the glasses clink at the bar.
| Orellana and Other Poems | |