 | [Poems by Hoffman in] Charles Fenno Hoffman |  |
FROM “DIARY OF A YOUNG MAN ABOUT TOWN”
The night-breeze that at random sweeps,
Across some long neglected lute,
May chance to wake one lonely chord,
While every string beside is mute.
Across some long neglected lute,
May chance to wake one lonely chord,
While every string beside is mute.
And tones that oft unheeded fall
On those whom they were meant to bless,
May from some faithful bosom call
One mournful thrill of tenderness.
On those whom they were meant to bless,
May from some faithful bosom call
One mournful thrill of tenderness.
| [Poems by Hoffman in] Charles Fenno Hoffman | |