 | Forest leaves |  |
169
THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST.
The Shadows of the Past! Oh, dim and pale,
They linger in the paths where joy has been;
And Memory lifts at times oblivion's veil,
And lights the vista with her magic sheen,
Till stricken hearts go mad, and call in vain
On joys, that ne'er can thrill their chords again.
They linger in the paths where joy has been;
And Memory lifts at times oblivion's veil,
And lights the vista with her magic sheen,
Till stricken hearts go mad, and call in vain
On joys, that ne'er can thrill their chords again.
The Shadows of the Past! Oh, beautiful
In the deserted bowers of bliss they stand;
So gentle-ey'd, so meekly sorrowful,
Extending toward us the familiar hand;
Oh! we would bribe Heaven's mercy, to restore
Those blessed angels to our arms once more.
In the deserted bowers of bliss they stand;
So gentle-ey'd, so meekly sorrowful,
Extending toward us the familiar hand;
Oh! we would bribe Heaven's mercy, to restore
Those blessed angels to our arms once more.
The Shadows of the Past! Oh, sad they seem,
With wither'd rose-buds braided in their hair,
And broken tablets of the heart's young dream,
Oh! precious were the hopes dissever'd there;
Wo to the weary heart, which, all undone,
Looks back and weeps—and wanders darkly on!
With wither'd rose-buds braided in their hair,
And broken tablets of the heart's young dream,
Oh! precious were the hopes dissever'd there;
Wo to the weary heart, which, all undone,
Looks back and weeps—and wanders darkly on!
| Forest leaves | |