The Old Tune

From out a windless realm it flowed,
Fragrant and sweet as the balm of rose;
Upon its breast soft sunlight glowed—
And still it glides where the jasmine blows.

An old, sweet tune of other days!
Full of the tints of the autumn-time,
Scents of russet and autumn haze
Gathered and fell like thoughts in rhyme.

May never again that once loved tune
Fail in my heart as a stream that flows;
Let it run as it will, like a vine in June,
Fragrant and sweet as a summer rose.
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