Poetry Archives

Full fifty merry maids I heard
          One summer morn a-singing;
And each was like a joyous bird
          With spring-clear not a-ringing.
It was an old-time soldier song
          That held their happy voices:
Oh how it’s good to swing along
                    When youth rejoices!

Then lo! I dreamed long years had gone,
          They passed again ungladly.
Their backs were bent, their cheeks were wan,
          Their eyes were staring sadly.
Their ranks were thinned by full a score
          From death’s remorseless reaping
Their steps were slow, they sang no more,—
                    Nay, some were weeping.

Dark dream! I saw my maids today
          Singing so innocently;
Their eyes with happiness were gay,
          They looked at me so gently.
Thought I: Be merry in your youth
          With hearts unrueing:
Thank God you do not know the truth
                    Of Life’s Undoing!