 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
145
YOU MAY MUSE O'ER GLORIES GONE.
I.
You may muse o'er glories gone,Gazing on these glowing skies,
But when droops the setting sun,
Then my dreary memories rise:
Then the thick'ning glooms I see,
No sun-glance may penetrate:
Then the waste opes wide for me,
Sterile, pathless, desolate!
II.
Vain your boyish heart's lament,By no lasting sorrow made;
Mine's a mournful monument,
With a thousand glooms arrayed;
There the death's-head on each shrine,
Column, court, and spire behold;
And some spirit, mocking mine,
Starts from every ruin old.
III.
On my path the spectres dart,Not from tomb and cave alone—
The choice places of my heart
To their searching sway are known;
And they bitter all of life,
And they banish all of joy,
Till I murmur, through the strife,
Wherefore do they not destroy?
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |