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 | Farm festivals |  |
Came speeches, then, by withered men,
In language brusque and plain;
And, as it happ'd, most of them tapped
The reminiscence vein.
Age loves through ways of olden days
With Memory's lamp to grope;
As proud Youth peers at future years,
Lit by the torch of Hope.
How far between are Memory's scene
And Hope's unclouded view!
False is each one, and overdone—
Yet both are wondrous true.
And toward the close, there calmly rose
A sad-eyed veteran hoary,
And with a fair and modest air,
Told
In language brusque and plain;
And, as it happ'd, most of them tapped
The reminiscence vein.
Age loves through ways of olden days
With Memory's lamp to grope;
As proud Youth peers at future years,
Lit by the torch of Hope.
How far between are Memory's scene
And Hope's unclouded view!
False is each one, and overdone—
Yet both are wondrous true.
19
A sad-eyed veteran hoary,
And with a fair and modest air,
Told
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