AN OLD SONG.
An old song, an old song! But the new are not so sweet,— Sweet though they be with honeyed words, and sweet with fancies fair,With thrills of tune in silver troop of answering echoes fleet, With tender longings slumberous upon enchanted air.
An old song! But across its verse what viewless voices sing! Through all its simple burden what human pulses stir!More intimate with grief and joy than any precious thing That the years have wrapped away in frankincense and myrrh!
Lovers have sung it, summer nights, when earth itself seemed heaven;
