Lines in Pleasant Places Rhythmics of many moods and quantities. Wise and otherwise |
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THE OLD BROMFIELD HOUSE. |
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 | Lines in Pleasant Places |  |
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THE OLD BROMFIELD HOUSE.
[_]
[Sung at the Last Dinner enjoyed in the old house, previous to its being taken down, to make way for the Wesleyan Building.]
Exalt your voice in hearty cheer,
Though tears bedim your eye,
To crown this scene, with memories dear,
To which we bid good by.
A thousand recollections sweet
O'erflow the brimming heart,
As here, where long we've met to meat,
Do we now meet to part.
Though tears bedim your eye,
To crown this scene, with memories dear,
To which we bid good by.
A thousand recollections sweet
O'erflow the brimming heart,
As here, where long we've met to meat,
Do we now meet to part.
The odors of a thousand feasts,
Like ghosts, the sense assail;
The low of sacrificial beasts
In fancy fills the gale;
The crowded board comes up to view,
Where long we've met to dine,
And word and smile appear anew,
As in the days lang syne.
Like ghosts, the sense assail;
The low of sacrificial beasts
In fancy fills the gale;
The crowded board comes up to view,
Where long we've met to dine,
And word and smile appear anew,
As in the days lang syne.
A cheerful heart—best condiment—
Gave zest to every dish,
And epicurean relish lent
To flesh, and fowl, and fish.
The brightest hour of all the day
—And bright if rain or shine—
That brought us hither on our way,
In days of auld lang syne.
Gave zest to every dish,
214
To flesh, and fowl, and fish.
The brightest hour of all the day
—And bright if rain or shine—
That brought us hither on our way,
In days of auld lang syne.
The fairest scenes of earth will fade;
And this, so long our own,
By sacred friendship joyous made,
In heart must live alone.
But that we've had is surely ours;
Let whate'er may combine,
They cannot trample out the flowers
That bloomed in auld lang syne.
And this, so long our own,
By sacred friendship joyous made,
In heart must live alone.
But that we've had is surely ours;
Let whate'er may combine,
They cannot trample out the flowers
That bloomed in auld lang syne.
Then cherished be in memory's nook
This spot by us revered,
And every smile, and word, and look,
That has its past endeared.
We raise our song with hearty cheer,
Though rue and rose entwine,
And in our cup of joy a tear
We drop for auld lang syne.
This spot by us revered,
And every smile, and word, and look,
That has its past endeared.
We raise our song with hearty cheer,
Though rue and rose entwine,
And in our cup of joy a tear
We drop for auld lang syne.
| Lines in Pleasant Places | |