Touches on The Harp of Nature :: :: University of Virginia Library

Dear Friend; there still is a vitality
In bygone joys and hours, and they rise,
Like ghosts, yet still life's strong realities,
And with their primal sunshine cheer the eye,
And warm the heart! not only in the sky,
Above him, shines the light by which man plies
Life's task: but what the passing day denies
Of brightness, he from himself can supply.
Suns long since set shine on him: he treads o'er
Life's old, familiar ground, whose forms now pass,
Transfigured, o'er the soul's soft, magic glass!
The music of the days which are no more
Still cheers him, for his inward ear is, as
The seashell, filled with harmonies of yore

2.

The distance has not dull'd, but sweetened: made
The music but still holier, touchinger;
The haste of youth is sobered: the wild stir
And effervescence of the soul allayed!
The divine instrument may now be played
With less breath than a babe breathes on a flute!
Yet yield such bursts of harmony, that mute
Angels themselves would listening stand, afraid
To stir their wings, in speechless ecstasy!
This is the player's test—he who knows well
The stops of his own thoughts, can wake thereby
Music most passing sweet! the Past doth tell
His old tales o'er again, the shadowy,
Dim outlines grow distinct: the heart beats high,
And feelings gush from life's unfathomed well!
The old, old primal feelings, fresh and true,
As on the untouched rosebud morn's first dew.
And these are now awakened in my heart,
At thought of those who gave me their best part,
That love, which is their best source and end too!