 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
229
LOST CHORDS.
One autumn eve, when soft the breeze
Came sweeping through the lattice wide,
I sat me down at organ side
And poured my soul upon the keys.
Came sweeping through the lattice wide,
I sat me down at organ side
And poured my soul upon the keys.
It was, perhaps by heaven's design,
That from my half unconscious touch,
There swept a passing chord of such
Sweet harmony, it seemed divine.
That from my half unconscious touch,
There swept a passing chord of such
Sweet harmony, it seemed divine.
In one soft tone it seemed to say
The sweetest words I ever heard,
Then like a truant forest bird,
It soared from me to heaven away.
The sweetest words I ever heard,
Then like a truant forest bird,
It soared from me to heaven away.
Last eve, I sat at window whence
I sought the spot where erst had stood
A cord—a cord of hick'ry wood,
Piled up against the back yard fence.
I sought the spot where erst had stood
A cord—a cord of hick'ry wood,
Piled up against the back yard fence.
Four dollars cost me it that day,
Four dollars earned by sweat of brow,
Where was the cord of hick'ry now?
The thieves had gobbled it away!
Four dollars earned by sweat of brow,
Where was the cord of hick'ry now?
The thieves had gobbled it away!
230
Ah! who can ever count the cost,
Of treasures which were once our own,
Yet now, like childhood dreams are flown,
Those cords that are forever lost.
Of treasures which were once our own,
Yet now, like childhood dreams are flown,
Those cords that are forever lost.
June 8th, 1882.
| A little book of tribune verse | |