The Old Man’s Smile.
’Twas on a bright and balmy morn
In autumn’s calm decline,
I saw an old man pensive sit
Beneath an ancient pine.
The sunlight streamed upon his brow
And o’er his silver hair,
And with its bright reflective glow
Revealed the calmness there.
A smile, a soft and peaceful smile,
Played gently on his cheek;
More placid ne’er an infants’ was,
More innocent or meek.
Whence could it spring, that lovely smile?
Few things are there on earth,
Mid faded joys and perished hopes,
To give such looks a birth.
Did memory hover o’er the past—
Sweet childhood’s sunny hours,
Till life seemed one bright holiday
Mid woods and fields and flowers?
Or did it dream of youth again,
With joyous sports and glee,
The happy heart, the buoyant thought,
And footstep wildly free?
Perchance the bygone hours of love
Came warmly o’er the heart,
With sweet, soft thrill, their sacred joy
And pleasure to impart.
Did manhood’s bold and active prime,
Ambition’s gaudy prize,
Earth’s tinsel joys, her pomp and state,
In vision o’er him rise?
Ah! none of these, a smile so calm,
Could o’er the features bring;
A stream of joy that glanced so bright
Burst from a purer spring.
It was a gleam of light that shone
From yonder world above,
Where round the great eternal throne
Bright angels dwell in love.
And, deep within, its sacred warmth
Aroused his happy breast,
To confident exulting hope
Full soon to reach that rest.