Classic Poem

A line or two
Of thanks to you
For memories that your words renew, —
The good, the bad,
The gay, the sad,
The rose, the fennel, and the rue,
The ancient ways,
The vanish'd days,
When heart and mind were all ablaze
With purpose true
To dare and do
Such deeds as might the world amaze!
They all come back,
A motley pack,
Or swift or slow, in Memory's track,
And, as they come,
Those phantoms dumb,
Of days and joys now gone to wrack,
I can but think,
The while I drink,
To those I lov'd when on life's brink,
Fate had been kind
(And I resign'd)
With them long since to let me sink:
For, old and drear,
I linger here,
And time glides on from year to year,
And all that lies
Beneath the skies
Is like what I am, bleak and sere.
Yet well I know
It is not so,
While violets spring and roses blow,
To those for whom
The lilies bloom
And Hope expands her roseate bow:
So let me smile,
And thus beguile
The prospect of life's closing mile,
Because for rest,
With all that's best,
I've but to wait a little while;
With patience wait,
Till, soon or late,
The moment comes of mortal fate,
And, freed from care,
I cleave the air
And vanish through the golden gate; —
That gate which hides
Our angel guides
To realms where heavenly love abides,
Where sorrows cease,
And, soothed to peace,
The fever of the soul subsides:
Or, so we deem,
And if it seem
The idle fabric of a dream,
'Twere better sure
Hope should endure
Than life be thought a demon's scheme!
So, pour the wine,
And while I twine
These wayward rhymes of Auld Lang Syne,
I'll drink to you,
The brave, the true,
The last in sacred Friendship's line!
The world is old,
The stars are cold,
The wolves of Time are fierce and bold:
But we'll not fear
The night that's near,
Nor ever doubt its morn of gold.