Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1859-03-01
GNorfestrr Daily SPY,
''oLp.n
BY REV. RALPH HoYT.

"OLD."
BY REV. RALPH HoYr.
BY the way-side, on a messy stone,
Sat hoary pilgrim, sadly musing;
Oft marked him sitting there alone,
All the landscape, like page, perusing,
Poor, unknown
BY the way-side, on NOISY stone.
Buckled knee and shae, and broad-rimmed hat
Coat as ancient as the form twas folding,
Silver buttons, cue, and cTimped cravat,
0aken staff, his feeble hand upholding,
There he sat,
Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimmed hat.
Seemed it pitiful he should sit there,
No one sympathizng, no one needing,
Fen to love him for his thin gray hair,
And the burrows all so mutely pleading
Age and care!
Seemed it pititul he should sit there.
1t was Summer, and we went to school,
Dapper country lads aud little maidens,
Taught the motto of the Ounces Stoola-
Its grave import still my fancy ladens,
'HERE's a FooL!h
1t was Summer, and we went to school.
When the stranger seemed to mark our play.
Some of us were joyous, some sad-heartedi
Remember well, too well, that day,
Offenfimes tlGtears upbidden started,
Would not stay,
When the stranger seemed to mark our play.
One sweet spirit broke the silent spell
All! to me her name was always heaven!
She besought him all his griefs to tell;
Il was then thirteen, and she eleven,)
ISABEL!
One sweet spirit broke the silent spell
CANCEL said he sadly, Il am old
Earthly hope no longer hath morrow;
Yet why sit here thou shalt be told.n
Then his eye betrayed pearl of SORROW
Down it rolled
"Angel," said he sadly, 81 am old.'
81 have tottered here to look once more
On the pleasant scene where delighted
IN the careless happy days of yore,
Ere the garden Of my heart was blighted
To the core.
have tottered here to look once more.
CAL the picture now to me how dear!
Fen this grey old rock where am seated
lisa jewel worth my journey here;
All that such a must be completed
With tear
ALI the picture now to me how dear
cold stone school house it is still the same!
There's the very step so oft mounted;
There's the window, creaking in its frame,
And the notches that cut and counted
For the game.
Old stone school-house it is still the same!
ain the cottage yonder was born;
Long my happy home, that humble dwelling:
Ihrre the fields of clover, wheat and corn,
There the spring with limpid nectar swelling,
All, forlorn
In the cottage yonder was born.
"Those two gateway sycamores you see.
They were planted just so far asunder
That long well-pole from the path to free,
And the wagon to pass safely under
Ninety-tirssi
Those two gateway sycamores you see.
'There's the orchard where we used to climb,
When my mates and were boys together,
Thinking nothing ofthe flight of time,
Fearing naught but work and rainy weather.
Past its prime.
There's the orchard where we used to climb!
"There the rude three-cornered chestnut rails,
Round the pastures where the cows were grain.
Where so sly, used TO watch for quails,
In the crops of buckwheat we were raising
Traps and trails!
There the rude, three-cornered chestnut rails
"Theres the mill that ground our yellow grain
Fond, and river still sereney flowing;
Cot, there nesting in the shaded lane,
Where the lily of my heart was blowing
MARY JANE
There's the mill that ground our yell4w grain.
"There's the gate which used to swing
Brook, and bridge, and barn, and old red stable
But alas! no more the morn shall bring
That happy group around my fathers table
Taken wing!
There's the gate on which used to swing,
81 am fleeing All loved are fled!
Y on green meadow was our place for playing;
That old tree can tell of sweet things said,
When around it Jane and were straying.
She is dead
am leeting! All loved are fled!
''Yon white spire-a pencil on the sky,
Tracing silently lite's changeful story
So familiar to my dim old eye,
Points me to seven that are now in glory
There on hight
fon white spire-a pencil on the sky
"0ft the aisle of that old church we trod,
Guided thther by angel mother;
Now she sleeps beneath its sacred sod
Sire, and sisters, and my little brother
Gone to God!
Oft the aisle of that old church we trod!
"rhere my Mary blessed me with her hand,
When our souls drank in the nuptial blessing
Ere we wandered to that distant land,
Now, alas! her gentle bosom pressing.
There | stand!
There my Mary blessed me with her hand!
CANCEL said he, sadly, ~ am old!
Earthly hope no longer hath morrow.
Now, why sit here thou hast been told.n
In his eye another pearl of SORROW
Down it rolled!
Angel said he, sadly, 81 am old"
BY the way-sde, on messy stone,
Sat the hoary pilgrim, sadly musing.
Still marked him, sitting there alone,
All the landscape, like page, perusing-
Poor, unknown,
By the way-side, on messy stonei