But now no dwelling crowns the cellar wall,
For, long ago, its beams and rafters fell—
Only a marble shaft, not broad or tall,
Amid the solitude stands sentinel.
For, long ago, its beams and rafters fell—
Only a marble shaft, not broad or tall,
Amid the solitude stands sentinel.
And now, no children's merry shout is heard,
That sound of yore that cheered the poet's heart
Yet still there comes the "lilting" of a bird,
And one wild rose has not forgot the spot.
That sound of yore that cheered the poet's heart
Yet still there comes the "lilting" of a bird,
And one wild rose has not forgot the spot.
There is no trace of footsteps on the lawn,
No vestige of the well-worn gravel path,—
Even the rustic gate and fence are gone,
So time obliterates the scars of earth.
No vestige of the well-worn gravel path,—
Even the rustic gate and fence are gone,
So time obliterates the scars of earth.
And he, the noblest of that happy throng,
That gaily gathered here in years of yore,
The fair, the brave, the high-souled, and the strong,
Is gone, and earth shall see his face no more.
That gaily gathered here in years of yore,
The fair, the brave, the high-souled, and the strong,
Is gone, and earth shall see his face no more.
Only the sweep of deep eternal hills,
Frescoes of earth, against the dreamy sky,
The reverent soul with awe and rapture fills,
Unchanged since when it cheered the poet's eye.
Frescoes of earth, against the dreamy sky,
The reverent soul with awe and rapture fills,
Unchanged since when it cheered the poet's eye.
And can it be that all which he has said,
The works of years, will fade away like this?
The works of years, will fade away like this?
22
