POET'S CORNER Print E-mail
POET'S CORNER



TO A VERY OLD WOMAN.

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LA MOTTE FOUQUE.

"Und Du gingst einst, die Myrt' im Haare."

And thou wert once a maiden fair,
    A blushing virgin, warm and young,
With myrtles wreathed in golden hair,
And glossy brow that knew no care--------
    Upon a bridegroom's arm you hung.

The golden locks are silvered now,
    The blushing cheek is pale and wan;
The Spring may bloom, the Autumn glow,
All's one - in chimney corner thou
    Sitt'st shivering on.

A moment --- and thou sink'st to rest;
To wake, perhaps, an angel blest,
    In the bright presence of thy Lord.
Oh, weary is life's path to all !
Hard is the strife, and light the fall,
    But wonderous the reward.

                                            W. M. THACKERAY.

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