Glory Days

By Bai T. Moore

I wandered in the moonlit night
to view the glory of the past
The ruins of those pioneer days
were silhouetted against the light

where once stood mansions decked with pride
now ruled by vipers and the bats

are ‘nough to make one stop and sigh

The broken frames can hardly stand
the beating of the constant rain

And on the landscape high above
the ruins of the parish too

can tell the ghostly story plain
beneath the grass stand epitaphs

a remnant of some burial ground

A lordly cricket once in a while
will break the silence with a sound

Or in some distant woods a drum
a native feast in feverish swing

I wonder after all these years
these ancient ruins can rise again

and brighten up a dismal scene?

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