Page:Poems E. L. F.djvu/44

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MEMORY.
Voice of the past, whose mellowed tone
Breathes a soft music, deep and lone,
O'er the weary heart, where toil and care
Hath wellnigh hushed all echo there;

Waking the soul of days gone by
With the buried thoughts that in them lie,
And the secret spring, when touched, will flow
With joys enacted years ago.

Yet Memory, too, will tell the heart
A tale of life's embittered part,
How each alternate sorrow cast
Its shadow o'er the joyous past;

And bring to mind each treasured scene,
The hopes and wishes that had been;

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