To Thy Memory

By Walter M. Lindsay

Yes! thou art fair!
I had not thought
Again to be by passion wrought
To such excess of love,
But that, in absence, I could bear
A mind above
Its influence, and control
The movements of my soul.

As unto one,
Who hung, in other years,
A harp between the trees,
Which, silent long,
Again renews its melodies,
And wild aerial song,
My life to me appears!
Time has restrung
The loosened chords, and now among
The rocks and valleys wild,
Which all my pathways in the world beset,
I linger yet,
Again a child;
For angel songs are in my ear,
When thou art near!