Waves of Thought.
93
Hope's pale blossom lifts her fragrance,
Breathing from the changeful past;
Perchance the waves of time may bear it
To blossom at my feet at last.
Breathing from the changeful past;
Perchance the waves of time may bear it
To blossom at my feet at last.
Like a necklace, lost, forgotten—
All the shining beads unstrung,
I, the well-worn thread would gather,
Gently string my joys along.
All the shining beads unstrung,
I, the well-worn thread would gather,
Gently string my joys along.
Childhood, once so gay, so joyous,
Full of life, from sorrow free,
Like a sweet and spring-like morning,
Poured forth freshest melody.
Full of life, from sorrow free,
Like a sweet and spring-like morning,
Poured forth freshest melody.
Now grave pictures shaded deeper,
Swift before my fancy spring;
And I hear an unseen footstep,
And I feel an angel's wing.
Swift before my fancy spring;
And I hear an unseen footstep,
And I feel an angel's wing.
Then I see a meek pale vision
Of a loved one from us borne,
Whose mild face is ever near me,
And whose loss I ever mourn.
Of a loved one from us borne,
Whose mild face is ever near me,
And whose loss I ever mourn.
