4523989Poems — My PlaymatesMary Caroline Denver and Jane Campbell Denver
MY PLAYMATES.
Ah, yes! methinks I see them stand Before me even now; I grasp each dear, familiar hand,— I gaze on each remembered brow. They are the same—to me the same— As when I gazed upon them last; For time can neither dim nor tame Those visions of the past. Our hearts may change, our hopes may wane, Butt hose bright visions will remain.
Though time has passed, with lengthened chain, And bid some flowers depart, That blossomed in the smiling train Which decked the life-wreath of the heart; The loveliest and the dearest ones Remain to grace the dying scene, To mingle their regretful tones In grief for what has been, To shed a fragrance o'er the tomb Of those that rest within its gloom.
Then will the love that shed a beam Of heaven upon our hearts Remain, until the last, sweet dream That lights their darkness up departs; Yes! there it lingers, still the same, Unchanged by care, untouched by pain, Linked with each old, familiar name, In recollection's chain! And ere that love is dimmed with rust, Its throne will crumble into dust.
Though thought will sometimes wander here, To tell us what they are, Remembrance whispers in our ear But to remind us that they were The loved companions of our youth, Whose joys were joys that we could share. Whose hearts were guileless as the truth So deeply seated there; Ah! though our feet may onward roam, Our hearts are with our childhood's home.
They linger still beneath the skies That first upon them shone, Where yet our best affections rise Like incense from its altar-stone; Making sweet music through the woods, Though not a sound may echo there, And filling the deep solitudes With some familiar air, That oft would rise, and echo long Through the dark woods—that sweet, old song!
Dear playmates! ere the rose-leaves fall, They fill with fragrant breath The air; and so I breathe, to all, Out from my life's fast-fading wreath Of' simple wild-flowers, one fond song; A loving souvenir from me, Who'd fain the dear old friends among, Thereby remembered be, When I no more shall sing or sigh, Or heed the seasons where I lie.
