 | An angler's rambles |  |
213
THE OLD WAND.
I
The wand that hath done service fairFrom thy boyhood to thy prime,
Onwards to thine after-time
Cherish. It is worth all care.
II
Many a fair-spoken friendHath less friendship in his heart
Than this passive piece of art,
And will fail thee at the end.
III
But a trusty rod and tried,Warp'd by service though it be,
Toughens in adversity,
And clings the nearer to thy side.
IV
Cherish it for thine own sake,For the record of events
Hanging on its accidents.
And the memories these awake.
220
V
Ferrule bent—distorted ring—Top curtail'd or past repair—
The continual wear and tear,
And relaxing of its spring;
VI
Every notch by knife impress'd,Ranging up and down the butt,
In its form of cross or rutt,
Is to thee of interest.
VII
In the fortunes of thy wandThou hast part, no common part,
And the beatings of thy heart
With its triumphs correspond.
VIII
Give it place in thine abode—In thy dwelling's inner shrine—
In the chamber made divine
By love and faith, lay up thy rod.
IX
When the wielder's arm is weak,And care's fever is at height;
In the watches of the night,
'Mid the silence it will speak;
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X
Of the rivers' joys discoursingWhen the skies are overcast,
Making thankful for the past,
And a purer life enforcing;
XI
Whispering with bated breathOf a valley and a stream,
Leading to a land of dream—
The river and the vale of death.
XII
Symbol be it to fulfilThe sweet promises of God,—
Symbol of the Staff and Rod
Guiding by the waters still!
| An angler's rambles | |