SONG OF THE VOICES.
The voices of the vanished years—
I hear them speak to-day;
And meekly in mute reverence bend,
To listen what they say.
I hear them speak to-day;
And meekly in mute reverence bend,
To listen what they say.
They tell of Childhood's rosy morn,
Of Youth's fair prime, of Hope's young dawn;
They murmur of the checkered Past,
They rend the veil oblivion cast.
Of Youth's fair prime, of Hope's young dawn;
They murmur of the checkered Past,
They rend the veil oblivion cast.
There come from out their dreamless bed,
Fair forms of some, the world calls dead;
Close by my side I see them stand,
With forehead white—a star-crowned band.
Fair forms of some, the world calls dead;
Close by my side I see them stand,
With forehead white—a star-crowned band.
They whisper—we have safely crossed
Seas where thy bark is tempest-tossed;
Now robe, harp, song, and victor's crown,
Are ours, with every cross laid down.
Seas where thy bark is tempest-tossed;
Now robe, harp, song, and victor's crown,
Are ours, with every cross laid down.
