THE OLD PALACE.
Tower and terrace have fallen low,
And the banquet hall is dimly seen;
Through ivy and bindweed that twine as they go
In shadowy folds of gray and green.
Ages have blotted the sculptured crest,
The wind sings through the portal stone;
It stands like an eagle's forsaken nest;
Dreary and desolate, mournful and lone.
The sun of its brightness for ever has set,
But the lone old Palace is beautiful yet.
And the banquet hall is dimly seen;
Through ivy and bindweed that twine as they go
In shadowy folds of gray and green.
Ages have blotted the sculptured crest,
The wind sings through the portal stone;
It stands like an eagle's forsaken nest;
Dreary and desolate, mournful and lone.
The sun of its brightness for ever has set,
But the lone old Palace is beautiful yet.
We may see a heart as grand and rare,
Stand like the Palace in its prime;
Rich in all that is noble and fair,
Till stricken by Grief, as the Palace by Time.
We may see the moss of a blighted trust
Creeping around its pillars of joy;
But amid the ruin, the gloom, and the dust,
There's a glory abiding that nought can destroy:
For the true heart is great in its lonely decay,
As the Palace is grand in its passing away.
Stand like the Palace in its prime;
Rich in all that is noble and fair,
Till stricken by Grief, as the Palace by Time.
We may see the moss of a blighted trust
Creeping around its pillars of joy;
But amid the ruin, the gloom, and the dust,
There's a glory abiding that nought can destroy:
For the true heart is great in its lonely decay,
As the Palace is grand in its passing away.
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