Thy bane is in thy shallow skull, not in my silver bowl!= I love the memory of the past--its pressed yet fragrant flowers-- The moss that clothes its broken walls--the ivy on its towers-- Nay, this poor bauble it bequeathed--my eyes grow moist and dim, To think of all the vanished joys that danced around its brim.= [Illustration: 095] (“ITS BROKEN WALLS.”) Then fill a fair and honest cup, and bear it straight to me; The goblet hallows all it holds, whate'er the liquid be; And may the cherubs on its face protect me from the sin, That dooms one to those dreadful words--“My dear, where _have_ you been? ***** ***** THE LAST LEAF. |I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, ``And again The pavement stones resound As he totters o'er the ground ``With his cane.= They say that in his prime Ere the pruning-knife of Time ``Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round ``Through the town.= But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets ``Sad and wan, And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, ``“They are gone.” The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest ``In their bloom, [Illustration: 0104] (“AS HE TOTTERS O'ER THE GROUND WITH HIS CANE.”) [Illustration: 108] (“IN HIS PRIME.”) And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.= [Illustration: 110] (“THE PRUNING-KNIFE OF TIME”) My grandmamma has said, Poor old lady, she is dead ``Long ago,-- That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow.= [Illustration: 132] (“MY GRANDMAMMA HAS SAID.”) But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin ``Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack ``In his laugh.= I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin ``At him here; [Illustration: 114] (“BY THE CRIER ON HIS ROUND.”) But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, ``Are so queer! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree ``In the spring,-- Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough ``Where I cling [Illustration: 120] (“THE MOSSY MARBLES REST”) [Illustration: 124] (“THE LIPS THAT HE HAS PREST.”) ***** ***** THE STAR AND THE WATER-LILY. |The sun stepped down from his golden throne, `And lay in the silent sea, And the Lily had folded her satin leaves, `For a sleepy thing was she;= What is the Lily dreaming of? `Why crisp the waters blue? See, see, she is lifting her varnished lid! `Her white leaves are glistening through! The Rose is cooling his burning cheek `In the lap of the breathless tide;-- The Lily hath sisters fresh and fair, `That would lie by the Rose's side;= He would love her better than all the rest, `And he would be fond and true;-- But the Lily unfolded her weary lids, `And looked at the sky so blue.= Remember, remember, thou silly one, `How fast will thy Summer glide,