THE OLD DOORSTONE. 209
Come hither, sweet visions, crouch low by the lintel j Look up in my face with the love-light of yore,
And bid me forget how fast years have flitted Since I saw you at sunset around the old door.
Brave Arthur and Robbie, with boyhood s clear
glances,
Come back from your homes by the far ocean- shore ;
And golden-haired sister, creep lovingly hither ; We used to sit thus on the step by the door.
Dear mother, with smile like the face of an angel ;
And father beloved Ah, memory sore ! Low-drooping, the wing of the Death-Angel rustled,
And swept as it passed, o er the step by the door.
You remember, old stone, how twilight one summer, The twilight and I, heard vows whispered o er?
Never mind it, old stone ; I live and am patient, Tho I sit all alone on the step by the door.
And great shaggy Bruno, true, honest and loving Old Bruno has gone from the spot in the sun ;
His eyes, lookingly dumbly such patient devotion, Are sleeping for aye ; Bruno s night-watch is done.
Good-bye, then, old house ; I shall pass you a stranger, By fireside or garden to come nevermore ;
But I ll glance at the stone, and I ll people its quiet With forms that I loved when we sat by the door. 18*
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