01.01.2011, 13:14
THE LECTERNS FOOT.
Or Maud and Willie.
A little pile of gourd, and flower, and fruit,
As up the aisle I go, salutes mine eyes —
Our bright thanksgiving at the lectern's foot,
xA. sweet compendious mellow harvest lies :
But where are Maud and Willie, wont to be
Both in their place at seasons such as these ?
Alas, they perished in the chill March breeze,
Though still they seem alive and bright to me ;
Though many a month of sorrow intervenes.
Since last I heard their hymns and saw them pray,
I still recall the frosty winter gleam,
AVhen, on the morn of their last Christmas day,
They stood, and sang beneath the moted beam
That cross'd the church, and pierced the evergreens.
Or Maud and Willie.
A little pile of gourd, and flower, and fruit,
As up the aisle I go, salutes mine eyes —
Our bright thanksgiving at the lectern's foot,
xA. sweet compendious mellow harvest lies :
But where are Maud and Willie, wont to be
Both in their place at seasons such as these ?
Alas, they perished in the chill March breeze,
Though still they seem alive and bright to me ;
Though many a month of sorrow intervenes.
Since last I heard their hymns and saw them pray,
I still recall the frosty winter gleam,
AVhen, on the morn of their last Christmas day,
They stood, and sang beneath the moted beam
That cross'd the church, and pierced the evergreens.