Читать книгу Authors and Writers Associated with Morristown - Julia Keese Colles - Страница 33

Ye solemn, gaunt, ungainly crutches,

That serve her frame such slippery tricks,

Were you within my lawful clutches,

I'd fling you back in River Styx.

Ye grew beside the Boat of Charon,

In murky fens of Stygian gloom,

Nor ever, like the rod of Aaron,

Shall your grim spindles burst in bloom.

Your reeds were tuned for groans rheumatic,

And croaking sighs from gouty man;

Nor e'er shall thrill with tones ecstatic,

As did the pipes of ancient Pan.

Avaunt you, then, ye helpers dismal!

Offend my eyes and ears no more;

Go stalking back to realms abysmal

And guide the ghosts on Lethe's shore.

But see! while yet my words upbraid them,

Her crutches bud with blossoms fair,

And Patience, Love and Faith have made them

Than Aaron's rod, more rich and rare.

And hark! from out their hollows slender,

No dismal groans or sighs proceed—

But tones of joy more sweet and tender

Than swelled from Pan's enchanted reed.

Then stay! your use her worth discloses,

Your ghastly frames her worth transmutes,

From withered sticks, to stems of roses—

From creaking reeds, to magic flutes.