Page:Hemans Miscellaneous Poetry 4.pdf/2



the full tide of melody and mirth, While joy's bright spirit beams from every eye, Forget not him, whose soul, though fled from earth, Seems yet to speak in strains that cannot die.

Forget him not, for many a festal hour, Charm'd by those strains, for us has lightly flown: And memory's visions, mingling with their power, Wake the heart's thrill at each familiar tone.

Blest be the harmonist, whose well-known lays Revive life's morning dreams, when youth is fled, And, fraught with images of other days, Recall the loved, the absent, and the dead.

His the dear art whose spells awhile renew Hope's first illusions in their tenderest bloom— Oh! what were life, unless such moments threw Bright gleams, "like angel visits," o'er its gloom?