54
CROFTEN TOWER.
CROFTEN TOWER.
I pass it oft at nightfall,
And I think the sunset gold
Is loath to touch with kindly light
That mansion dark and old;
And it seems as if the heavens
That hang above its roof
Are not so blue as other skies,
And further keep aloof.
And I think the sunset gold
Is loath to touch with kindly light
That mansion dark and old;
And it seems as if the heavens
That hang above its roof
Are not so blue as other skies,
And further keep aloof.
The birds build not their airy nests
Within the shadowing trees;
A dead calm holds its dreary court
Within the mouldy leaves;
Wild roses spring where once in pride
Rare tropic blossoms grew,
But not a human eye is glad
To meet their modest hue.
Within the shadowing trees;
A dead calm holds its dreary court
Within the mouldy leaves;
Wild roses spring where once in pride
Rare tropic blossoms grew,
But not a human eye is glad
To meet their modest hue.
The garden-walks are overgrown
With brambles and with weeds,—
Only the squirrel or the jay
On the rich fruitage feeds;
The mellow peach and nectarine
Hang ripely from the bough,
And, all untouched, the purple grapes
The trellises endow.
With brambles and with weeds,—
Only the squirrel or the jay
On the rich fruitage feeds;
The mellow peach and nectarine
Hang ripely from the bough,
And, all untouched, the purple grapes
The trellises endow.
