 | Le Cahier Jaune |  |
26
AN OLD DIARY.
At evening ere the stars were lit,
I idly turned my grandsire's page;—
The faltering verse, the heedless wit,
Young counsel striving to be sage,
The careless flotsam of the mind,
The laughter of the silent years,
The loves as idle as the wind,
With here and there a trace of tears.
I idly turned my grandsire's page;—
The faltering verse, the heedless wit,
Young counsel striving to be sage,
The careless flotsam of the mind,
The laughter of the silent years,
The loves as idle as the wind,
With here and there a trace of tears.
I gaze upon the pictured face,
His laughing eyes, his sunny brow,
Thy thoughts of glory and of grace
Are writ in dust, I said, and thou
Art slumbering 'neath thy headstone grim,
Beside the narrow smoky street;
The misty evening closes dim
About thee, where the house-fronts meet.
His laughing eyes, his sunny brow,
Thy thoughts of glory and of grace
Are writ in dust, I said, and thou
Art slumbering 'neath thy headstone grim,
Beside the narrow smoky street;
The misty evening closes dim
About thee, where the house-fronts meet.
Thy kindly mood that cheered with jest
And ready laugh the sullen day,
So frankly, tediously expressed,
I set them for a while away,
And o'er thee not unkindly bent
Across the haze of vanished years,
I can forgive thy merriment,
And love thee better for thy tears.
And ready laugh the sullen day,
So frankly, tediously expressed,
I set them for a while away,
And o'er thee not unkindly bent
Across the haze of vanished years,
I can forgive thy merriment,
And love thee better for thy tears.
27
One hour was thine of mortal pain:
Thou hadst no season to efface
What might have marked thee light or vain,
What might have wronged thee with thy race,
I scan the moments I have spent;
God grant if such an end be mine,
That my recorded merriment
May seem and be as pure as thine.
Thou hadst no season to efface
What might have marked thee light or vain,
What might have wronged thee with thy race,
I scan the moments I have spent;
God grant if such an end be mine,
That my recorded merriment
May seem and be as pure as thine.
God grant that in the eternal fold,
When all are safely gathered in,
When we have all our secrets told
And learnt humility from sin,
We two may taste of heavenly light,
And walk together, free and wise,
Not nearer in the Father's sight,
But mindful of our earthly ties.
When all are safely gathered in,
When we have all our secrets told
And learnt humility from sin,
We two may taste of heavenly light,
And walk together, free and wise,
Not nearer in the Father's sight,
But mindful of our earthly ties.
Eton, 1892.
| Le Cahier Jaune | |