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Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox An Old Song Two roadways lead from This land to That; and one is the road of Prayer; And one is the road of Old Time Songs, and every note is a stair. A shabby old man with a music machine on the sordid city street,-- But suddenly earth seemed Arcady, and life grew young and sweet For the city street fled and the world was green and a little house stood by the sea; And she came singing a martial air (she who was peace itself); She brought back with her the old strange charm of mingled pathos and glee; With her eyes of a child in a woman's face and her soul of a saint in an elf. She had been gone for many a year, they tell us it is not far,-- That silent place where the dear ones go but it might as well be a star. Yes it might as well be a distant star, as a beautiful Near-By-Land. If we hear no voice, and see no face, and feel no touch of a hand. But now she had come, for I saw her there, and she looked so blithe and young; (Not white and still as I saw her last) and the rose that she wore was red; And her voice soared up in a birdlike trill, at the end of the song she sung, And she mimicked a soldier's warlike stride and tossed back her dear little head. She had been gone for many a year, and never came back before; But I think she dwells in a Near-By-Land since a song jarred open the door; Yes I think it is surely a Near-By-Land, that place where our loved ones are For the song would never have reached her ear had she been on a distant star. Two roadways lead from This land to That; and one is the road of Prayer; And one is the road of Old Time Songs, and every note is a stair. Ella Wheeler Wilcox Ella Wheeler Wilcox's other poems: Poems of the other poets with the same name: 1338 Views |
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