III.
And oft in the noonday of youth, when the sunlight there lay,
Have I turned my footsteps to pass by that archway, which seemed
To swing wide its portals and welcome the ebb-tide of day,
While the oak trees stood pensive, as though they inwardly dreamed.
IV.
I remember the rustic rail-fence half fallen in ruin,
Like the surf-dashed wreck of a vessel upheaved on the shore,
With its timbers half clinging together, half scattered, yet true in
Its station remaining, and true to its purpose of yore.
V.
I remember the tall hardy thistle and golden rod growing,—
Close neighbors were they—for the same clod of mould did they share;
No flowers bloomed there; why should flowers be ever found blowing
O’er dust that knew naught of life’s joys? why should flowers bloom there?
VI.
I remember the rude timbered bier, that sad emblem of death,
As it stood o’er the grave with its purpose fulfilled evermore;
Around it grew dank weeds and ivy with poisonous breath,
That gave it a false guise of life, despite the dread semblance it bore.