Since the Goths' invading tide
Wrecked Rome's potency and pride,
Something wonderful has vanished, something exquisite has died;
And in spite of modern fame
And the lustre of its name,
Even beautiful Lake Como can be never quite the same.
So beside its sylvan shore,
Where the wavelets evermore
Seem to rythmically murmur of the classic days of yore,
Cease, O boatman, now to row!
For, while Alpine summits glow,
I would dream that I am floating on the lake of long ago.
PERSONALLY ADDRESSED
LINES
written for a Golden Wedding, 1883
Just fifty years ago to-night,
When earth was mantled deep with snow,
The stars beheld with tender light
The fairest scene this world can show.
Two graceful forms stood side by side,
Two trembling hands were clasped as one,
Two hearts exchanged perpetual faith,
And love's sweet poem was begun.
For suns may rise and suns may set,
And tides may ebb and tides may flow,
Love is man's greatest blessing yet,
And honest wedlock makes it so.
"Father" and "Mother",—sweetest words
That human lips can ever frame,
We gather here as children now
To find your loving hearts the same.
Unchanged, unchangeable by time,
Your love is boundless as the sea;
The same as when our childish griefs
Were hushed beside our mother's knee.