J. B. F.April 11.
To-day, through memory's silent halls,
A light footfall is heard;
And by its softly echoing tread,
My soul's calm depths are stirred.
A light footfall is heard;
And by its softly echoing tread,
My soul's calm depths are stirred.
As summer zephyr's scented breath,
Gives fragrance to the fading wreath;
So now to me come thoughts of thee—
Dear dweller by the crystal sea.
Gives fragrance to the fading wreath;
So now to me come thoughts of thee—
Dear dweller by the crystal sea.
What thou art thinking, none may say,
This fleeting, fitful April day;
But thoughts thou hast—Love tells me so,
They blend with mine of—long ago!
This fleeting, fitful April day;
But thoughts thou hast—Love tells me so,
They blend with mine of—long ago!
No sin, no fears, no grief, no tears,
In heaven, thrice seven bright blissful years,
Thy voice hath joined the angel throng
With naught to check thy joyous song.
In heaven, thrice seven bright blissful years,
Thy voice hath joined the angel throng
With naught to check thy joyous song.
