 | Songs and Poems by George Sigerson |  |
53
THE OLD PATH BY THE RIVER
Grow, grow—rude brier and bramble
And long wild weed, across,
There is nought but an old man's footstep
Now on the pathway's moss.
And long wild weed, across,
There is nought but an old man's footstep
Now on the pathway's moss.
The old path by the river,
That was once all bright with flowers,
The mournful pines have o'er-arched it
With dusk, like evening hours!
That was once all bright with flowers,
The mournful pines have o'er-arched it
With dusk, like evening hours!
The flowers have fallen that flourisht,
With the radiant sun shut out,
And the echoes are never wakened
By childhood's merry shout.
With the radiant sun shut out,
And the echoes are never wakened
By childhood's merry shout.
The fair young brows of childhood
And the clustering, sunny hair
And soft eyes that would ever brighten
The gloom, come never there.
And the clustering, sunny hair
And soft eyes that would ever brighten
The gloom, come never there.
O lone path by the river!
O, long wild weed across!
There is nought but an old man's footstep
Upon the rank, grey moss.
O, long wild weed across!
There is nought but an old man's footstep
Upon the rank, grey moss.
54
The Temple of Life is in ruins,
Its lamps quencht, one by one,
No light, save a ray thro' the broken roof,
Falleth his brow upon.
Its lamps quencht, one by one,
No light, save a ray thro' the broken roof,
Falleth his brow upon.
The one most sorrowful Mourner
In the aisle when all depart,
And ah—the unspeakable loneliness
That presses around his heart!
In the aisle when all depart,
And ah—the unspeakable loneliness
That presses around his heart!
| Songs and Poems by George Sigerson | |