 | The bird and the bell, with other poems |  |
73
THE OLD DAYS AND THE NEW.
I.
A poet came singing along the vale:
“Ah, well-a-day for the dear old days!
They come no more as they did of yore,
By the flowing River of Aise.”
“Ah, well-a-day for the dear old days!
They come no more as they did of yore,
By the flowing River of Aise.”
He piped through the meadow, he sang through the grove:
“Ah, well-a-day for the good old days!
They have all gone by, and I sit and sigh
By the flowing River of Aise.
“Ah, well-a-day for the good old days!
They have all gone by, and I sit and sigh
By the flowing River of Aise.
“Knights and ladies, and shields and swords,—
Ah, well-a-day for the grand old days!
Castles and moats, and the bright steel coats,
By the flowing River of Aise.
Ah, well-a-day for the grand old days!
Castles and moats, and the bright steel coats,
By the flowing River of Aise.
74
“The lances are shivered, the helmets rust;
Ah, well-a-day for the stern old days!
And the clarion's blast has rung its last
By the flowing River of Aise.
Ah, well-a-day for the stern old days!
And the clarion's blast has rung its last
By the flowing River of Aise.
“For the warriors who swept to glory and death,—
Ah, well-a-day for the brave old days!—
They have fought and have gone, and I sit here alone
By the flowing River of Aise.
Ah, well-a-day for the brave old days!—
They have fought and have gone, and I sit here alone
By the flowing River of Aise.
“The queens of beauty whose smile was life,—
Ah, well-a-day for the rare old days!—
With love and despair in their golden hair,
By the flowing River of Aise,
Ah, well-a-day for the rare old days!—
With love and despair in their golden hair,
By the flowing River of Aise,
“They have flitted away from hall and bower;
Ah, well-a-day for the rich old days!
Like the sun they shone, like the sun they have gone,
By the flowing River of Aise.
Ah, well-a-day for the rich old days!
Like the sun they shone, like the sun they have gone,
By the flowing River of Aise.
“And buried beneath the pall of the past,—
Ah, well-a-day for the proud old days!—
Lie valor and worth, and the beauty of earth,
By the flowing River of Aise.
Ah, well-a-day for the proud old days!—
Lie valor and worth, and the beauty of earth,
By the flowing River of Aise.
75
“And I sit and sigh by the idle stream;
Ah, well-a-day for the bright old days!—
For naught remains for the poet's strains
But the flowing River of Aise.”
Ah, well-a-day for the bright old days!—
For naught remains for the poet's strains
But the flowing River of Aise.”
II.
Then a voice sang out from the oak overhead:
“Why well-a-day for the grand old days?
The world is the same, if the bard has an aim,
By the flowing River of Aise.
“Why well-a-day for the grand old days?
The world is the same, if the bard has an aim,
By the flowing River of Aise.
“There 's beauty and love, and truth and power.
Cease well-a-day for the old, old days!
The humblest home is worth Greece and Rome,
By the flowing River of Aise.
Cease well-a-day for the old, old days!
The humblest home is worth Greece and Rome,
By the flowing River of Aise.
“There are themes enough for the poet's strains.
Leave well-a-day for the quaint old days!
Take thine eyes from the ground; look up and around,
By the flowing River of Aise.
Leave well-a-day for the quaint old days!
Take thine eyes from the ground; look up and around,
By the flowing River of Aise.
“To-day is as grand as the centuries past;
Leave well-a-day for the famed old days!
There are wrongs to right, there are battles to fight,
By the flowing River of Aise.
Leave well-a-day for the famed old days!
There are wrongs to right, there are battles to fight,
By the flowing River of Aise.
76
“There are hearts as true to love, to strive:
No well-a-day for the dark old days!
Go put into type the age that is ripe,
By the flowing River of Aise.”
No well-a-day for the dark old days!
Go put into type the age that is ripe,
By the flowing River of Aise.”
Then the merry poet sang down the vale,
“Farewell, farewell to the dead old days!”
By day and by night, there is music and light
By the flowing River of Aise.
“Farewell, farewell to the dead old days!”
By day and by night, there is music and light
By the flowing River of Aise.
| The bird and the bell, with other poems | |