THE VILLAGE CHURCH.
The village church is passing gay,
The bells gush out in merry tune,
A flag is o'er the turret gray,
The porch holds all the flowers of June:
For Youth and Beauty come to wed,
With bounding form and beaming eye—
With all the rapture Love can shed,
And all the hope that Gold can buy;
And children twine with noisy glee,
White favours round the cypress-tree.
The bells gush out in merry tune,
A flag is o'er the turret gray,
The porch holds all the flowers of June:
For Youth and Beauty come to wed,
With bounding form and beaming eye—
With all the rapture Love can shed,
And all the hope that Gold can buy;
And children twine with noisy glee,
White favours round the cypress-tree.
An old man sitteth on a grave;
His steps no more are firm and fast:
And slenderly his white locks wave,
As breeze and butterfly go past,
His steps no more are firm and fast:
And slenderly his white locks wave,
As breeze and butterfly go past,
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