Poems (Barker)/Sold
Sold.
Sold, sold, sold For a paltry sum of gold;A heart that had never a stain or blot,For rust or mildew had touched it not.The chambers were bright and glad and fairAnd the rose of happiness blossomed there.
Lost, lost, lost, Who counteth the fearful cost,—Of the heart so warm on the altar laid,Of the room where roses will surely fade:Of the damp and mouldering mass of flowers,Which she culled in her, girlhood's happiest hours?
Sold, sold, sold, A trusting heart for gold.Better to weave the sweet girl a shroudAnd carry her through the careless crowd—A beautiful corpse, than to deck her browWith the bridal wreath you're preparing now.
Weep, weep, weep, O'er the sin so sad and deep.Had she no loving friend, I pray,To call her feet to the better way,To say that the gold would lose its sheen,That the world had ways she had never seen?
Sold, sold, sold, A simple heart for gold!The light will fade from the sweet brown eyes,Like the transient blue from the summer skies,And the roses pale, and the sweet lips sigh,Slowly this blossom will fade and die.
Lost, lost, lost, Who counteth the tearful cost!Who will gather the trusting child,Up to their heart when her sea grows wild?And speak to her of a peace divine,Of a blessed, holy, and sacred shrine.
Mourn, mourn, mourn, For the heart so early tornOut of the trusting peaceful arkBy the glittering bauble; her path is dark,Place on her brow, white lillies fairThey are type of the flowers her soul should wear.