Fleurs De Lys, and Other Poems by Arthur Weir
page 44 of 103 (42%)
page 44 of 103 (42%)
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When friends seemed heroes, woman crystal truth,
Success the certain portion of the brave: Come back, come back and give me ere I die The pure ideal of my life again! In vain I plead. Time's snowy ashes lie Cold on the hearth-stone of my aged brain. _AT CHATEAUGUAY._ Memory gleams like a gem at night Through the gloom of to-day for me, Bringing dreams of a summer bright At Chateauguay. Summer sleeps in the ripening corn, Sunlight glitters on wood and lea, Scent of flowers on the air is borne At Chateauguay. Swiftly rushes the river by, Through the lake to the far-off sea, Full of light as a maiden's eye, At Chateauguay. Stands a house by the river side, (Weeds upspring where the hearth should be), Only its tottering walls abide At Chateauguay. |
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