Читать книгу The Old Soldier's Story: Poems and Prose Sketches - Riley James Whitcomb - Страница 30

How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood

That now but in mem'ry I sadly review;

The old meeting-house at the edge of the wildwood,

The rail fence and horses all tethered thereto;

The low, sloping roof, and the bell in the steeple,

The doves that came fluttering out overhead

As it solemnly gathered the God-fearing people

To hear the old Bible my grandfather read.

The old-fashioned Bible —

The dust-covered Bible —

The leathern-bound Bible my grandfather read.

The blessed old volume! The face bent above it —

As now I recall it – is gravely severe,

Though the reverent eye that droops downward to love it

Makes grander the text through the lens of a tear,

And, as down his features it trickles and glistens,

The cough of the deacon is stilled, and his head

Like a haloéd patriarch's leans as he listens

To hear the old Bible my grandfather read.

The old-fashioned Bible —

The dust-covered Bible —

The leathern-bound Bible my grandfather read.

Ah! who shall look backward with scorn and derision

And scoff the old book though it uselessly lies

In the dust of the past, while this newer revision

Lisps on of a hope and a home in the skies?

Shall the voice of the Master be stifled and riven?

Shall we hear but a tithe of the words He has said,

When so long He has, listening, leaned out of Heaven

To hear the old Bible my grandfather read?

The old-fashioned Bible —

The dust-covered Bible —

The leathern-bound Bible my grandfather read.