  Wraith of the out-lived years, Wandering too and fro, Floating to earth on the hallowed tones Of a song of long ago. Shadows of those asleep Steal through the simple lay, Lifting the silvery veil aside Of a long lost yesterday. Beautiful silent days, Raised from the silent past, In the pregnant chords of a once loved song Memory speaks at last. Of the golden summer eves, Shrined in the mists of years And a world of hopes! Dear God, what hopes, Born to the soul in tears. But the youthful hopes creep by, Stealing with solemn chime To a finite grave. They will rise in faith When Eternity conquers Time. Dream-laden, tender song, Sacred and sweet and old, With the lingering touch of a bygone age, I have scanned again in thy down-turned page, A tale that was long since told. |
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