 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
187
RUBBISH ABOUT AN OLD HOUSE.
The moments of the old house now are numbered,
Pull it away;
The space is wanted it so long hath cumbered,
For use to-day.
Pull it away;
The space is wanted it so long hath cumbered,
For use to-day.
Now thundering fall each olden beam and rafter,
Pull them away;
They fall amid the shouting and the laughter
Of men to-day.
Pull them away;
They fall amid the shouting and the laughter
Of men to-day.
Now fall its sides—the inner view revealing
Old Time's decay;
The crumbling plaster and worm-eaten ceiling
Dropping away!
Old Time's decay;
The crumbling plaster and worm-eaten ceiling
Dropping away!
But, as we gaze, can fancy not awaken
Some old dream sped,
Peopling these rooms, lone, dreary and forsaken,
With forms long fled?
Some old dream sped,
Peopling these rooms, lone, dreary and forsaken,
With forms long fled?
Pass now before us faces beauty beaming,—
Childhood and youth,—
Scenes are enacted in our noon-day dreaming,
Vivid as truth.
Childhood and youth,—
Scenes are enacted in our noon-day dreaming,
Vivid as truth.
188
Alternate changes mark the just presentment,
Like to a life;
Fiery Ambition, Hatred, Love, Contentment,
Hope, Peace and Strife;
Like to a life;
Fiery Ambition, Hatred, Love, Contentment,
Hope, Peace and Strife;
All are portrayed,—the funeral and the bridal,—
From woe to joy;
Fancy still plies her wand, and, never idle,
Yet finds employ.
From woe to joy;
Fancy still plies her wand, and, never idle,
Yet finds employ.
Age after age sweeps by in quick succession,
And, as we scan,
The history tell throughout the long procession;
The doom of man.
And, as we scan,
The history tell throughout the long procession;
The doom of man.
And as moves by each fleeting generation,—
Whate'er his fame,—
Is read the truth that man in every station
Is still the same.
Whate'er his fame,—
Is read the truth that man in every station
Is still the same.
As the old house falleth when its place is needed,
So falleth man,
Like an old ruin by the world unheeded—
'T is nature's plan.
So falleth man,
Like an old ruin by the world unheeded—
'T is nature's plan.
A grander fabric springs upon his ruin,
Raised from the clod,
Taking eternal durance with renewing,—
The builder God.
Raised from the clod,
Taking eternal durance with renewing,—
The builder God.
| Rhymes with reason and without | |