 | Longfellow's boyhood poems |  |
51
ON A LOCK OF HAIR
As from his shrine the pilgrim brings
Some relic of its holy things,
That it may keep on memory's page
The record of his pilgrimage.—
So he who holier days remembers,—
Till life is quenched in its own embers
Will cherish, with religious zeal,
The gift, where love has set his seal.
Some relic of its holy things,
That it may keep on memory's page
The record of his pilgrimage.—
So he who holier days remembers,—
Till life is quenched in its own embers
Will cherish, with religious zeal,
The gift, where love has set his seal.
The purple robe,—the bright rich gem,—
The sceptre—throne—and diadem,—
Yes—all life's pomp and pageantry
Are but poor things for one like me:—
But this sweet gift,—this little token
Of love that never will be broken,
This frail memorial of bright days
I'll keep till life itself decays!
The sceptre—throne—and diadem,—
Yes—all life's pomp and pageantry
Are but poor things for one like me:—
But this sweet gift,—this little token
Of love that never will be broken,
This frail memorial of bright days
I'll keep till life itself decays!
October 1, 1825
| Longfellow's boyhood poems | |