Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life Connecticut River reeds blown by the "Peasant Bard" |
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A NEW-YEAR'S LAY—1880. |
 | Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life |  |
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A NEW-YEAR'S LAY—1880.
Alone I walk life's rugged track
With slow and sober tread;
Its rising sun a long way back,—
Its sundown there ahead.
With slow and sober tread;
Its rising sun a long way back,—
Its sundown there ahead.
Alone! for she, my hope, my pride,
Who gave me all her trust,
Has, wayworn, fallen by my side,
And slumbers in the dust.
Who gave me all her trust,
Has, wayworn, fallen by my side,
And slumbers in the dust.
Alone! for others who began
The march that I essayed,
Have broken ranks, and one by one
Are resting in the shade.
The march that I essayed,
Have broken ranks, and one by one
Are resting in the shade.
Too rough the way; too fierce the strife;
Too burdensome the load;
They've fallen in the march of life,
And left me on the road.
Too burdensome the load;
They've fallen in the march of life,
And left me on the road.
Yet not alone! for memory dear
Calls them around me still;
Their voices fancy bids me hear;
Their looks remembrance fill.
Calls them around me still;
Their voices fancy bids me hear;
Their looks remembrance fill.
In what blest realms do they now wear
The meed of soldiers true,
Promoted from the strife to share
The peace I cannot view?
The meed of soldiers true,
Promoted from the strife to share
The peace I cannot view?
Beat, heart! the bosom of a man!
Lift hope and courage high!
Well will the Great Commander plan;
March on, and trust, and try!
Lift hope and courage high!
Well will the Great Commander plan;
March on, and trust, and try!
| Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life | |