A life in song . somewhere in the worldWhere waiting love would welcome love that in rare moments that he stole from he confide to me his wrongs and seem to see him yet, the straight brown hairTossd wildly backward from the broad white brow,The sunburnt cheeks, the deep and wondering eyes,As blue when grand emotion swept within,As autumn skies are in the northwest wind,With just as much of heaven back of them—Dear boy !—and he has told us here perchanceOf what he dreamd.—So spoke the soldier-friend;And paused a time. Then, vaguely, with a lookTurnd inward toward the
A life in song . somewhere in the worldWhere waiting love would welcome love that in rare moments that he stole from he confide to me his wrongs and seem to see him yet, the straight brown hairTossd wildly backward from the broad white brow,The sunburnt cheeks, the deep and wondering eyes,As blue when grand emotion swept within,As autumn skies are in the northwest wind,With just as much of heaven back of them—Dear boy !—and he has told us here perchanceOf what he dreamd.—So spoke the soldier-friend;And paused a time. Then, vaguely, with a lookTurnd inward toward the soul, as if to findDear stores in memory, he began to read ;And one by one the people who had stoodTo greet the stranger, softly took their seats ;And not alone the poem held them aged soldiers well kept, youthful voice,The ringing echo of a singing heart,Charmd all, like chimings of the old church bells,Which, sweet in summer, yet still sweeter peald amid the winters wind-whirld REAMING. Life is poised on slender mo-ments ; all eternity on time;And the still small voice revealsthe presence of a power , light as dreams, may wake the slumbering souls activity,Rouse the source whence thought and feeling issue toward their destiny,—Toward the good, if lured by movements where a pathway leads to weal ;Toward the ill, if turning only where the wiles of craft come a sound, a fragrance, or a light that stirs the mind ;Something wakes a wish within one ; something gleams we glance to find ;And vve start ; and then press toward it, on beyondthe joys of youth ; lO DREAMING. I I On, till age, that falls in death, may open thus thegates of truth. Every thing in art or nature, robed in rich or rude attire,Gains in beauty while it gains in power to lure a pure claims may charm the senses, but the spirit from its throneWaives away all other suitors for what charms itself we find that, while they long
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Keywords: ., bookauthorraymondgeorgelansing1, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900