| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 1052. Ballad of the Faded Field |
| | | By Robert Burns Wilson |
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| BROAD bars of sunset-slanted gold | |
| Are laid along the field, and here | |
| The silence sings, as if some old | |
| Refrain, that once rang long and clear, | |
| Came softly, stealing to the ear | 5 |
| Without the aid of sound. The rill | |
| Is voiceless, and the grass is sere, | |
| But beauty’s soul abideth still. | |
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| Trance-like, the mellow air doth hold | |
| The sorrow of the passing year; | 10 |
| The heart of Nature groweth cold, | |
| The time of falling snow is near; | |
| On phantom feet, which none may hear, | |
| Creeps—with the shadow of the hill— | |
| The semblance of departed cheer, | 15 |
| But beauty’s soul abideth still. | |
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| The dead, gray-clustered weeds enfold | |
| The well-known summer path, and drear | |
| The dusking hills, like billows rolled | |
| Against the distant sky, appear. | 20 |
| From lonely haunts, where Night and Fear | |
| Keep ghostly tryst, when mists are chill, | |
| The dark pine lifts a jaggëd spear, | |
| But beauty’s soul abideth still. | |
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ENVOY
Dear love, the days that once were dear | 25 |
| May come no more; life may fulfill | |
| Her fleeting dreams with many a tear, | |
| But beauty’s soul abideth still. | |
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