TO COL. T. L. ODOM.
241
And down on the pale-white altar fell A silvery, sparkling beam,My heart grew warm and my bosom stirred To the touch of a heavenly dream.
I watched the ashes gather again, And burst into vivid flame,While into my aching, sorrowful heart A gleam of its glory came;
As though some pitying angel rent The veiling of midnight cloud,Letting the light of a joyous hope Shine over my spirit's shroud.
And musical voices seemed to float On the breast of the silence there;Softly singing the song of love To the pulse of the sighing air.
The flame on the altar flashed and burned, The roses burst into bloom,Their fragrance fell on the marble shrine In showers of rare perfume.
