The Poetry of Real Life A New Edition, Much Enlarged and Improved. By Henry Ellison |
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ON AN OLD DEFACED SIGN-POST. |
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 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
ON AN OLD DEFACED SIGN-POST.
Point on, with silent finger, still, old post,The road to—dusty Death! thou didst ere while
Point out the highway, serving to beguile
The traveller's weary steps, and now may'st boast
To point a moral—thou art like some ghost
That starts up on a sudden in our path,
Pointing at what we know not; for Time hath
Defaced thee: so thy first intention 's lost.
But still he puts thee to a higher use—
For now thou dost mark out Life's great highway,
Which all must travel still, whether they chuse
Or not; so thou art still, 'midst thy decay,
A solemn thing: pointing to nobler views
Than statue'd columns' cloud-high tops survey!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |