THE POET'S HARP OF SORROWS.
Thou hast been silent long, harp of my sorrows,
I had thought ne'er to touch thy chords again!
But grief closed in the heart such sternness borrows,
It is relief to waken thy complain;
And I have yearned to lay my heart on thee,
And let its throbbings wake a symphony.
I have a vision in my heart—
A vision of years long gone by—
And from almost oblivion start
A thousand links of memory.
I see a dimly smiling band
Far back upon the stream of time;
And friendship's wreath from hand to hand
Links sunniest flowers of sunny clime.
I see them faintly though so near;
I gaze into their smiling eyes;
And from their soft warm lips I hear
The gushing of old melodies.
But they are passing; as I gaze
The light fades from each smiling brow;
Unlike that dream of by-gone days,
A specter-band glides by me now.
My eyes are dim with unshed tears
That burn like fire, but will not flow;
My vision hath recalled the years,
The light-winged, bright-hued long ago.
I hear the caroling of birds,
And murmur of a gurgling stream,
A low sweet laugh, and pleasant words,
And eyes long closed with brilliance beam.
