Page:The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson, Vailima Edition, Volume 8, 1922.djvu/253

SONGS OF TRAVEL Perish and vanish, one by one, from earth:

Meanwhile, in the hall of song, the multitude

Applauds the new performer. One, perchance,

One ultimate survivor lingers on,

And smiles, and to his ancient heart recalls

The long forgotten. Ere the morrow die,

He too, returning, through the curtain comes,

And the new age forgets us and goes on.

XLIII

THE LAST SIGHT

XLIV

ING me a song of a lad that is gone,

Say, could that lad be I?

Merry of soul he sailed on a day

Over the sea to Skye.

Mull was astern, Rum on the port,

Egg on the starboard bow;

Glory of youth glowed in his soul:

Where is that glory now?

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