Page:Poems Laflin.djvu/21

There were gathered young and old,
Many were the tales they told;
But hark! at once through the evening air
There floats a strain of music rare.

Outside in the silence of the night,
The Master paused in the pale moonlight,
The silver rays softening the lines of care
And reflecting the silver of his hair.

Within the house he came, and played
Melody, in heaven made.
Ah! ye who look on from afar,
You have seen the waning of my star.

But well may you look again on me
E'en though I stand here silently,
For first upon my strings did echo
Some chords sublime—long years ago.

Here I remember the years that are past,
Here am I patient to the last;
Ah! stranger, pause and shed a tear
For the memories that are buried here.

Near a century have my strings been rust,
Near a century the Master's hand is dust;
But though his life now ended be,
His genius lives immortally.

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