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Title: Waterloo
Author: Cotton Noe [
More Titles by Noe]
A meeting-house, no church at all,
With stained cathedral glass,
With lofty spire and arching hall,
And terraced lawns of grass:
No organ peals, no chanting choir,
No frescoed walls that men admire
Had this old meeting-house;
But roses wild their petals piled
About its sacred door,
And locust bloom shed rich perfume,
Upon the air, galore,
Around the meeting-house.
It stood upon a limpid stream
My childhood thought divine,
Whose waters pure did ever gleam
Like shimmering shine of wine;
It stood, alas! but stands no more
Upon the bank or pebbly shore
Of sunny Pleasant Run;
Yet in my dreams, it often seems
I see thee, Waterloo,
And see the flash of beaded splash
Upon the waters too,
While crossing Pleasant Run.
Yes, in my dreams, I often hear
The songs they used to sing--
Those solemn lays of reverent fear,
When Christ indeed was King:
Then sinners bowed when prayer was led
By some poor saint the ravens fed
At holy Waterloo.
How free from lust, the simple trust
Of soul that worshipped there;
How free from guile were men erstwhile
Whose creed was song and prayer,
The creed of Waterloo.
The meeting days were always fair--
God smiled on Waterloo!
And mother rode the dark brown mare,
And took the mule colt, too;
For fashion then did not beguile
A mother's heart with worldly wile,
Ah! happy days agone!
Oh! days no more when mothers wore
Sunhood and riding skirt,
And fathers dressed their Sunday best,
A plain check-cotton-shirt,--
Ah! happy days agone!
The sunlight dances on the hills
That shelter Waterloo;
I see the gold of daffodils
That bloom the meadow through--
The hour has come, for meeting's broke,
And now the simple country folk
Are leaving Waterloo!
The horses neigh; away, away!
Away, but not for home;
Grandma to-day will laugh and say,
"My boy, my boy has come."
Oh, blessed Waterloo!
[The end]
Cotton Noe's poem: Waterloo
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