قراءة كتاب An Old Man's Prayer
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 3
may be his, and, by deeds renowned,
He may meet us again with laurels crowned.”
All glasses are raised, when a gentle hand
Is heard at the door—all silent stand
As it slowly opens, and into the light
An old man steps, his features bright:
The long white hairs o’er his shoulders stream;
Like silver threads in the warm rays beam.
Wrinkled his brow, and pale his face,
Wasted his form, and tottering his pace,
Shrunken his cheek; but the eye above
Tells of gentleness, kindliness, love.
And silent stand all as he slowly seeks
A place near the table, and gently speaks:—
“Young men, but a moment I check your mirth,
And bring you back to the common earth.
Unbidden I come with an old man’s prayer:
May it seek your hearts, and gain entrance there!
Look on my face, seamed, not with crime,
But with marks of age before their time:
These long white hairs should not have shown
Till ten more years had by me flown.
Age is upon me; not age by years,
But age by sorrow and care and tears;
Not age that cheers as it draweth near
Yon heaven which seemeth more bright and clear,
But age which causes the heart to lag
In its onward course, and the spirit to flag;
That prays for death as but a release
From earthly care, and finds no peace
In that sweet belief that at last I hail,—
‘There is rest for the weary beyond the vale.’
For to me has come a spirit of light,
Bringing the morning, and chasing the night;
Causing my heart with joy to swell
To my Maker, ‘who doeth all things well.’
You shall hear my story: ’twill not be long,
And may guard you all from sin and from wrong.
I had wealth and plenty in goodly lands,
In houses and cattle; and from my hands
Many were fed; and many were they
Who partook of my charity day by day.
My house was open to stranger and friend;
And my gold did I lavishly, freely spend.
But one bitter curse did my wealth uprear
To poison my life,—the tempter here,
The sparkling demon, which now I see
From all your glasses glaring on me,—
A monster who steals on its prey so slow,
That it has your life before you know
Or dream of its power: this was the curse
That sat at my fire-side, robbed my purse,
Poisoned my life, and left me to be
A drifting log on the world’s wide sea,
Ruined and bankrupt, lost and bereft;
No kindred, no fortune, no treasure, left.
Treasure!—yes; for I had three sons,
The hope of my life,—three noble ones.
You shall hear their