. Dreams and realities . d to say,iCBe happy again, for it is May. THE DEAR OLD VIOLIN. BEING forth the dear old violin,And softly draw the bow,And let me see if I can feel The joys of long the storm of sorrow And the weight of care and painWould vanish could I listenTo its melody again. Bring forth the dear old violin, And play that old, sweet strain,And perhaps the old-time happiness Will flood my soul well do I remember One night, now long ago,When your eyes brought me a message As you softly drew the bow. Outside the clouds were gathering That heralded the storm;Inside
. Dreams and realities . d to say,iCBe happy again, for it is May. THE DEAR OLD VIOLIN. BEING forth the dear old violin,And softly draw the bow,And let me see if I can feel The joys of long the storm of sorrow And the weight of care and painWould vanish could I listenTo its melody again. Bring forth the dear old violin, And play that old, sweet strain,And perhaps the old-time happiness Will flood my soul well do I remember One night, now long ago,When your eyes brought me a message As you softly drew the bow. Outside the clouds were gathering That heralded the storm;Inside, that gloomy winters night, At least two hearts were warm,For on the throbbing music There seemed to rise and flowA message from your heart to mine, With the drawing of the bow. 20 DREAMS AND REALITIES. So bring your dear old violin, I long to hear to-nightThe music that has power to thrill My soul with such delight,And somehow oer me steals the joy I used to know whenYour eyes looked messages to mine Across the A TANGLED SKEIN. ®UE lives are like a tangled skeinThat we try to untangle in vain, in gave us our lives in a straight bright threadTo weave for heaven a golden web;And though we have toiled by day and night,The threads are tangled, they are not right. If the past, with its wrongs, we could undo, And begin the weaving all anew, Perhaps we should know how to keep in sight Of the beautiful pattern, and weave aright, And feel to-day no bitter pain That our lives are only a tangled skein. By past mistakes we might learn to guideThe threads of gold from side to side,And in the light of the after yearsThe cloth would show no stain of tears,If we could all the knots undo,And begin to weave our lives anew. What is past is past, and the wish is vainTo ever untangle the tangled skein; 22 DREAMS AND REALITIES. Cloth once woven into the webCan never go back and again be thread;So lives where mistakes and successes blendMust bear the stain when the weavings end.
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