IT SEEMS like a dream -- that sweet wooing of old -- Like a legend of fairies on pages of gold -- Too soon the sweet story of loving was closed, Too rudely awakened the soul that reposed; I kissed the white lips that lay under the pall, And crept back to you, lonely Bachelor Hall. Mine eyes have grown dim and my hair has turned white, But my heart beats as warmly and gaily tonight As in days that are gone and years that are fled -- Though I fill up my flagon and drink to the dead; For over my senses sweet memories fall, And the dead is come back to old Bachelor Hall. I see her fair face through a vapor of tears, And her sweet voice comes back o'er the desert of years, And I hear, oh, so gently, the promises she spoke, And a soft spirit hand soothes the heart that is broke; So I fill up the flagon, and drink -- that is all -- To the dead and the dying of Bachelor Hall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INGRATEFUL [OR UNGRATEFUL] BEAUTY THREATENED by THOMAS CAREW TO A CHILD EMBRACING HIS MOTHER by THOMAS HOOD THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 2. THE WRECK OF RIVERMOUTH by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SCHUBERT'S (UNFINISHED) SYMPHONY by FRANCES BARTLETT FASHION; A DIALOGUE by JAMES HAY BEATTIE |