Page:Twilight Hours (1868).djvu/241

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page needs to be proofread.
GREETING.
197


Music of life, all it can know,
Though we be parted like viol from bow,
Still on the winds harmonies float,
Still our souls' converse comes, note for note.
Music of life, solemn and low,
Follow my footsteps, wherever they go.