 | The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard |  |
222
OLD REMEMBRANCE.
With song the wood was ringing
When first of love we talked,
One wild bird midst his singing,
Seemed listening while we walked;
All May-like was the weather,
Though gold was on the grain,
As our hearts first drew together
In the old green lane.
When first of love we talked,
One wild bird midst his singing,
Seemed listening while we walked;
All May-like was the weather,
Though gold was on the grain,
As our hearts first drew together
In the old green lane.
That spring-light still is round us,
That bird attends our way;
The chain in which love bound us,
Is noiseless as we stray.
In gay haunts now abiding
We falter not, nor feign,
For still we seem but gliding
Through the old green lane.
That bird attends our way;
The chain in which love bound us,
Is noiseless as we stray.
In gay haunts now abiding
We falter not, nor feign,
For still we seem but gliding
Through the old green lane.
We dwell in places crowded,
But yet we live alone;
The more our thoughts are shrouded,
The more are they our own.
The worldly path is steeper
That tempts the bold and vain;
But our hearts for pleasures deeper
Seek the old green lane.
But yet we live alone;
The more our thoughts are shrouded,
The more are they our own.
223
That tempts the bold and vain;
But our hearts for pleasures deeper
Seek the old green lane.
From youth to age unchilling,
Thus onward will we stroll,
Our earthly course fulfilling,
As soul were linked to soul.
And still at last, late sinking,
Shall we, midst wind and rain,
Find shelter most when thinking
Of the old green lane.
Thus onward will we stroll,
Our earthly course fulfilling,
As soul were linked to soul.
And still at last, late sinking,
Shall we, midst wind and rain,
Find shelter most when thinking
Of the old green lane.
1843.
| The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard | |