 | Collected poems |  |
541
A SECOND BALLAD OF ANTIQUARIES
“Friends that we know not,”—late we said.
We know you now, true friends, who still,
Where'er Time's tireless scythe has led,
Have wrought with us through good and ill—
Have toiled the weary sheaves to fill.
Hail then, O known and tried!—and you,
Who know us not to-day, but will—
Hail to you all, Old Friends and New!
We know you now, true friends, who still,
Where'er Time's tireless scythe has led,
Have wrought with us through good and ill—
Have toiled the weary sheaves to fill.
Hail then, O known and tried!—and you,
Who know us not to-day, but will—
Hail to you all, Old Friends and New!
With no scant store our barns are fed:
The full sacks bulge by door and sill,
With grain the threshing-floors are spread,
The piled grist feeds the humming mill;
And—but for you—all this were nil,
A harvest of lean ears and few,
But for your service, friends, and skill;
Hail to you all, Old Friends and New!
The full sacks bulge by door and sill,
With grain the threshing-floors are spread,
The piled grist feeds the humming mill;
And—but for you—all this were nil,
A harvest of lean ears and few,
But for your service, friends, and skill;
Hail to you all, Old Friends and New!
But hark!—Is that the Reaper's tread?
Come, let us glean once more until
Here, where the snowdrop lifts its head,
The days bring round the daffodil;
Till winds the last June roses kill,
And Autumn fades; till, 'neath the yew,
Once more we cry, with Winter chill,
Hail to you all, Old Friends and New!
Come, let us glean once more until
Here, where the snowdrop lifts its head,
The days bring round the daffodil;
542
And Autumn fades; till, 'neath the yew,
Once more we cry, with Winter chill,
Hail to you all, Old Friends and New!
Envoy.
Come! Unto all a horn we spill,Brimmed with a foaming Yule-tide brew,
Hail to you all, by vale and hill!—
Hail to you all, Old Friends and New!
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