Classic Poem

Dear Record of departed years!
Our thoughts recess—our Memory's fane—
Sacred to all our Hopes and Fears,
To Love and Grief—to Joy and Pain.

Recalling many a faded face,
And picturing many an altered mind,
On every page we find a trace
Which those we loved have left behind.

The Heart's Eolian lyre that flings
To every passing breath its tone
Thrilling from wild deep wond'rous strings
A sweet sad music all it's own.

Shrine of past spells—and long lost powers
Map of the soul—affection's chart—
Memorial of fast fading hours—
I hail thee, scripture of the heart!