Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Have you never heard, in music's sound,
Some chords which o'er your heart
First fling a moments magic round,
Then silently depart?
But with the echo on the air,
Roused by that simple lay,
It leaves a world of feeling there
We cannot chase away.
Yes, yes,—a sound hath power to bid them come—
Youth's half-forgotten hopes, childhood's remembered home.

When sitting in your silent home
You gaze around and weep,
Or call to those who cannot come
Nor wake from dreamless sleep;

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Those chords, as oft as you bemoan
“The distant and the dead,”
Bring dimly back the fancied tone
Of some sweet voice that's fled!
Yes, yes,—a sound hath power to bid them come—
Youth's half-forgotten hopes, childhood's remembered home.

And when, amid the festal throng,
You are, or would be gay—
And seek to while, with dance and song,
Your sadder thoughts away;
They strike those chords and smiles depart,
As, rushing o'er your soul,
The untold feelings of the heart
Awake, and spurn controul!
Yes, yes,—a sound hath power to bid them come—
Youth's half-forgotten hopes, childhood's remembered home.