264 A TTAINED.
Close beneath, with failing footsteps, Eyes too dim to mark its crest,
Walk the aged, worn with waiting, Looking for the harvest blest ;
For at times unknown, uncertain, Precious leaves are said to drop,
Potent for rejuvenescence, From the. cypress stately top.
Ah ! if anywhere beyond us
There should spring a tree so fair,
How the pilgrim throng would quicken On the well-worn pathway there !
How uplifted hands would struggle For one chance to try again,
Though the new lease be no better Than the old one with its pain !
��ATTAINED.
A SHINING whorl of the fashioned frost With its silver petals lapped across Was over the buried lilies tossed.
Twas like a star in its saintly shine, Or like a gem from a river-mine, This snowy rose made of silver rime.
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