 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
80
MEMORIES.
Sing me the simple ballad strain
That pleased my heart in days of yore,
When earth seemed void of care and pain,
And all was bright my way before,—
Whose music, like the dews of night
That cheer the heart of summer flowers,
Checked youthful passion's fiery might,
And gave to virtue nobler powers.
That pleased my heart in days of yore,
When earth seemed void of care and pain,
And all was bright my way before,—
Whose music, like the dews of night
That cheer the heart of summer flowers,
Checked youthful passion's fiery might,
And gave to virtue nobler powers.
Although a devious sea of years
Hath rolled its griefs and toils between,—
Although the present scene appears,
(And we ourselves), not what has been,—
Although the wrinkled brow betrays
The deeply-written trace of care,
And the bright hope of careless days
No longer finds a station there,—
Sing me the song that once you sung,
While I sit waiting at your knee,
The tones distilling from your tongue
Shall set my care-bound spirit free!
'T will wander through that distant past,
And revel mid those scenes again,
Known ere its sun was overcast
By aught of gloom or aught of pain;
When innocence dwelt in the bowers,
All consecrate to love and truth,
When life's new spring-light cheered the hours
That made the calendar of youth.
Hath rolled its griefs and toils between,—
Although the present scene appears,
(And we ourselves), not what has been,—
Although the wrinkled brow betrays
The deeply-written trace of care,
And the bright hope of careless days
No longer finds a station there,—
Sing me the song that once you sung,
While I sit waiting at your knee,
The tones distilling from your tongue
Shall set my care-bound spirit free!
'T will wander through that distant past,
And revel mid those scenes again,
Known ere its sun was overcast
By aught of gloom or aught of pain;
81
All consecrate to love and truth,
When life's new spring-light cheered the hours
That made the calendar of youth.
Let others love the mightier strain,
The brilliant gem of studied art;
O, let me hear that song again
Whose melody first won my heart!
The brilliant gem of studied art;
O, let me hear that song again
Whose melody first won my heart!
| Rhymes with reason and without | |