. Literature, art and song: Moore's melodies and American poems; . y were part, Still round them, like visions of yesterday, throng.[As letters some hand hath invisibly traced, When held to the flame will steal out on the siglitT/So many a feeling, that long seemd effaced. The warmth of a moment like this brings to light. And thus, as in memorys bark we shall glide, To visit the scenes of our boyhood anew,Tho oft we may see, looking down on the tide, The wreck of full many a hope shining through;Y^t still, as in fancy we point to the flowers. That once made a garden of all the gay shore,Deceiv
. Literature, art and song: Moore's melodies and American poems; . y were part, Still round them, like visions of yesterday, throng.[As letters some hand hath invisibly traced, When held to the flame will steal out on the siglitT/So many a feeling, that long seemd effaced. The warmth of a moment like this brings to light. And thus, as in memorys bark we shall glide, To visit the scenes of our boyhood anew,Tho oft we may see, looking down on the tide, The wreck of full many a hope shining through;Y^t still, as in fancy we point to the flowers. That once made a garden of all the gay shore,Deceived for a moment, we 11 think them still ours, And breathe the fresh air of lifes morning once more/ So brief our existence, a glimpse, at the most, Is all we can have of the few we hold dear;And oft even joy is unheeded and lost. For want of some heart, that could echo it, , well may we hope, when this short life is gone, To meet in some world of more permanent a smile, or a grasp of the hand, hastning on. Is all we enjoy of each other in this/*. L^ But, come, the more rare such delights to the heart, ^^,^^e^ The more we should welcome and bless them the more;Theyre ours, when we meet,—they are lost when we part,Like birds that bring summer, and fly when tis oer. U
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Keywords: ., bookauthormackenzi, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1872
