THE OLD FARM-GATE.
I like not this barrier gaily bedight,
With its glittering latch and its trellis of white.
It is seemly, I own-yet, oh! dearer by far
Was the red-rusted hinge and the weather-warp'd bar.
Here are fashion and form of a modernized date,
But I'd rather have looked on the Old Farm-gate.
With its glittering latch and its trellis of white.
It is seemly, I own-yet, oh! dearer by far
Was the red-rusted hinge and the weather-warp'd bar.
Here are fashion and form of a modernized date,
But I'd rather have looked on the Old Farm-gate.
'Twas here where the urchins would gather to play
In the shadows of twilight, or sunny mid-day;
For the stream running nigh, and the hillocks of sand,
Were temptations no dirt-loving rogue could withstand.
But to swing on the gate-rails, to clamber and ride,
Was the utmost of pleasure, of glory, and pride;
And the car of the victor, or carriage of state,
Never carried such hearts as the Old Farm-gate.
In the shadows of twilight, or sunny mid-day;
For the stream running nigh, and the hillocks of sand,
Were temptations no dirt-loving rogue could withstand.
But to swing on the gate-rails, to clamber and ride,
Was the utmost of pleasure, of glory, and pride;
And the car of the victor, or carriage of state,
Never carried such hearts as the Old Farm-gate.
'Twas here where the miller's son paced to and fro,
When the moon was above and the glow-worms below;
Now pensively leaning, now twirling his stick,
While the moments grew long and his heart-throbs grew quick.
Why, why did he linger so restlessly there,
With church-going vestment and sprucely-comb'd hair?
He loved, oh he loved, and had promised to wait
For the one he adored at the Old Farm-gate.
When the moon was above and the glow-worms below;
Now pensively leaning, now twirling his stick,
While the moments grew long and his heart-throbs grew quick.
Why, why did he linger so restlessly there,
With church-going vestment and sprucely-comb'd hair?
He loved, oh he loved, and had promised to wait
For the one he adored at the Old Farm-gate.
'Twas here where the grey-headed gossips would meet;
And the falling of markets, or goodness of wheat—
This field lying fallow—that heifer just bought—
Were favourite themes for discussion and thought.
The merits and faults of a neighbour just dead—
The hopes of a couple about to be wed—
The Parliament doings—the Bill; and Debate—
Were all canvass'd and weigh'd at the Old Farm-gate,
And the falling of markets, or goodness of wheat—
This field lying fallow—that heifer just bought—
Were favourite themes for discussion and thought.
The merits and faults of a neighbour just dead—
The hopes of a couple about to be wed—
The Parliament doings—the Bill; and Debate—
Were all canvass'd and weigh'd at the Old Farm-gate,
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