Oh, the Palace look'd so great and grandWhen its walls stood up in giant pride;When it held the highest in the land,And its triumph-gates were flinging wide;When its turrets bore the banner'd staff,And the courtyard rung with the prancing hoof;When the dancing strain and the revel laughWent merrily up to the spanning roof.Oh! the Palace was a noble placeIn its palmy days of strength and grace.
Tower and terrace have fallen low,And the banquet hall is dimly seen;Through ivy and bindweed that twine as they goIn 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 trustCreeping 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.
