 | Collected poems |  |
571
LONGFELLOW
“And his old age made beautiful with song.”
These were thy words of Chaucer who, grown old,
Like thee, those wand'ring “Wayside” tales retold,
Which all men hearken to, when hours are long.
These were thy words of Chaucer who, grown old,
Like thee, those wand'ring “Wayside” tales retold,
Which all men hearken to, when hours are long.
But thou hadst added to the rest a throng
From Western Worlds; and Northern Runes unroll'd;
And sought in Gestes and Fables manifold
Thy “Birds of Passage,” fleet of wing and strong.
From Western Worlds; and Northern Runes unroll'd;
And sought in Gestes and Fables manifold
Thy “Birds of Passage,” fleet of wing and strong.
Bard of the bygone days when we were young!
Be this thy praise, that never flower'd among
Thy “Garden of Romance” aught base or mean;
And still, through all the changes of the year,
Thy stream of verse came welling pure and clear,
A stainless fount,—the truest Hippocrene.
Be this thy praise, that never flower'd among
Thy “Garden of Romance” aught base or mean;
And still, through all the changes of the year,
Thy stream of verse came welling pure and clear,
A stainless fount,—the truest Hippocrene.
1907.
| Collected poems | |