Part 1 — LAMENT OF THE LAST OF THE PEACHES.[21]
Reading edition
LAMENT OF THE LAST OF THE PEACHES.[21]
'Lone, trembling one! Last of a summer race, withered and sere— Say, wherefore dost thou linger here? Thy work is done!'
W. G. C.
I.
In solemn silence here I live, A lone, deserted peach; So high that none but birds and winds My quiet bough can reach; And mournfully, and hopelessly, I think upon the past— Upon my dear departed friends, And I—the last—the last!
II.
My friends!—oh daily one by one I see them drop away, Unheeding all my tears and prayers, That vainly bade them stay; And here I hang, alone—alone! While life is fleeing fast, And sadly sigh that I am left, Alas!—the last—the last!
III.
Farewell then, thou my little world, My home upon the tree; A sweet retreat, a quiet home, Thou may'st no longer be; The willow trees stand weeping nigh, The sky is overcast, The autumn winds moan sadly by— I fall—the last—the last!