Classic Poem

If he came back, I wonder would he know
The voices whispering of the long ago?
If he came back, I wonder would he see
The beauties, buried now, that used to be?
If he came back, back from the dust and dead,
I wonder would he seek the broken thread,
And follow on, o'er sod and o'er the sea,
Until it led him back to youth and me?

If he came back, I wonder would he share
My dreams? Or would the roses in my hair
Be but dull, voiceless flowers of the spring,
Speechless and silent, mute, nor whispering
The secrets once they told? Or would they glow
With the sweet memories of long ago,
Where every petal quivered with the weight
And grandeur of a rapture passionate?

If he came back, I wonder would he feel
The rapture of the hopes that used to steal
From out the tinted twilight as we stood
Beneath the boughs in the thick, leafy wood,
Thrilled with the song whose silent melody
None heard in all its ecstasy but we?
Would he now hear that whispered song and low
If he came back, who went so long ago?

Where ends the song that is yet half unsung?
In the still mound, where the green turf upflung?
Dies all the music, or but hid in air,
Trembling, yet mute, in that vast Otherwhere?
The threads now parted, who shall mend again,
Weld broken links, restore the chain? And then
When they come back, who have been gone so long,
I wonder will they know the old, sweet song?