Page:Poems Chandler.djvu/125

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THE HOUSE IN THE MEADOW.
121
One draught from the living waters
Shall call back his manhood's prime;
And eternal years shall measure
The love that outlasted time.

But the shapes that they left behind them,
The wrinkles and silver hair,—
Made holy to us by the kisses
The angel had printed there,—

We will hide away 'neath the willows
When the day is low in the west,
Where the sunbeams cannot find them
Nor the winds disturb their rest;

And we'll suffer no tell-tale tombstone,
With its age and date, to rise
O'er the two who are old no longer
In the Father's house in the skies.