Madmoments: or First Verseattempts By a Bornnatural. Addressed to the Lightheaded of Society at Large, by Henry Ellison |
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TO AN OLD HOMESONG. |
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 | Madmoments: or First Verseattempts |  |
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TO AN OLD HOMESONG.
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Oh sweet, sweet Music of the Past,Sweet Voice of early Days,
How much of Joy and Pain thou hast,
How much dwells in thy Lays!
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Let others lend the outward EarTo newmade Fancysongs,
But let me still thy Music hear,
Which to the Heart belongs.
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Time robs thee not, but to thee lendsTones of old Melody,
And mellowing, with thy Music blends
Thoughts, Hopes, that cannot die.
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He makes thee as a holy Thing,And when we hear thy Lays,
Our Hearts grow as a Child's again,
Full of those early Days!
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Unconsciously at EventideThy Words steal to the Tongue,
For in the deep Heart doth abide
The Spirit of thy Song!
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Voiceing itself by Words aloneTo which Time gives a Power
Of ampler Utterance, unknown
To those framed for the Hour!
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For they are Words which human FearsAnd Hopes have holy made,
Of which each as its Portion bears
A Spell that cannot fade.
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Thee by the mossy Graves we sing,Where Voices, silent long,
Awake from their deep Slumbering,
And mingle with thy Song!
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But fare thee well, thou sweet, sweet Strain,Thou Voice of early Years,
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With Childhood's blessed Tears!
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The bygone Heart beats in my Breast:And what are we but as
The Heart within us, grieved or blest?
Thus I am what I was!
| Madmoments: or First Verseattempts | |