Lays and Legends or Ballads of the New World By G. W. Thornbury |
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OLD LETTERS. |
 | Lays and Legends or Ballads of the New World |  |
OLD LETTERS.
Old, brown, and mouldy pages,
Whose every leaf
Is stamped with mystic characters
Of joy and grief.
Whose every leaf
Is stamped with mystic characters
Of joy and grief.
On such poor fragile monuments,
Past hope, past fear,
Past love, past scorn, past hate,
Are graven here.
Past hope, past fear,
Past love, past scorn, past hate,
Are graven here.
Fragile creations of still frailer man,
That men outlast,
'Though from eternity, from whence he came,
The scribe be past.
That men outlast,
'Though from eternity, from whence he came,
The scribe be past.
O, there are tongues within these dry brown leaves,
That speak as Autumns do;
They cry of death and sorrow,
To me—to you.
That speak as Autumns do;
They cry of death and sorrow,
To me—to you.
To look on thee, is the dark coffin lid
Of some old tomb to raise,
And on the mouldering dead within
Silent to gaze.
Of some old tomb to raise,
And on the mouldering dead within
Silent to gaze.
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Their mute but mighty voice,
Tells of days past,
Of leaves swept from an aneient tree,
And withered in the blast.
Tells of days past,
Of leaves swept from an aneient tree,
And withered in the blast.
Dear record of long-vanished days,
Whose silent spell
Invokes so potently the aged deed,
Farewell—farewell!
Whose silent spell
Invokes so potently the aged deed,
Farewell—farewell!
| Lays and Legends or Ballads of the New World | |