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MUSIC OF YESTERDAY.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
As the murmur and the plaint, and the exulting swell, and the sharp scream, which the unequal gust of yesterday snatched from the strings of a wind-harp.—Coleridge.
The chord, the harp's full chord is hushed,
The voice hath died away,
Whence music, like sweet waters, gushed,
But yesterday.
The wakening note, the breeze-like swell,
The full o'ersweeping tone,
The sounds that sighed "Farewell! farewell!"
Are gone—all gone.
The love, whose burning spirit passed
With the rich measure's flow,
The grief to which it sank at last,—
Where are they now?
