Classic Poem

Canst thou all unmovid listen
To the melody she sings?
While my eyes with tear-drops glisten
Canst thou smile at other things?
Though thou hearest, scarcely heeding,
On my soul each tone is cast
Like a spirit's whisper'd pleading
With the present for the past.

Mingle with its concords simple
Voices silent in the tomb;
Laughter never more to dimple
Cheeks that long have ceased to bloom;
Dreams of childish fingers wreathing
Odours of forgotten flowers;
Memories fresh as spring-tide breathing
Through the newly-budded bowers.

Peace! No longer are they dirges,
And the distance brightening nears,
As the moment's sorrow merges
In the joy of other years.
Now the real clasps the seeming,
And the mist of sorrow flies
'Fore the visioned sunlight streaming
From the blue of brighter skies.

'Neath thy wings, O Music, slumber
Recollections, sad and sweet;
Time-lull'd visions without number
Waken when thy pinions beat.
Hold the happy spirits dearer,
O'er them breathe with lips divine,
That their voices may be clearer
And their presence brighter shine.