Page:Pleasant Memories.pdf/123

And still a voice of friendly tone
    Doth speak and call thee blest.

'T was but a mournful sight to see
    Trim Abbotsford so gay,
The rose-trees flaunting there so bold,
The ripening fruits in rind of gold,
    And thou their lord away.
There stood the lamp, with oil unspent,
O'er which thy thoughtful brow was bent,
    When erst with magic skill
Unearthly beings heard thy call,
And buried ages thronged the hall,
    Obedient to thy will.
This fair domain was all thine own,
From towering rock to threshold stone;
    Yet didst thou lavish pay
The coin that caused life's wheels to stop,
The heart's blood oozing, drop by drop,
    Through the tired brain away?

I said thy lamp unspent was there,
Thy books arranged in order fair,
But none of all thy kindred race
Found in those lordly halls a place.
Thine only son in foreign lands
Leads bravely on his martial bands,
And stranger lips, unmoved and cold,
The legends of thy mansion told,—