Page:The Garland 1839.pdf/3



is it that before mine eyes, While gazing on thy mien, All my past years of life arise, As in a mirror seen? What spell within thee hath been shrined, To image back my own deep mind?

Even as a song of other times Can trouble memory's springs; Even as a sound of vesper-chimes Can wake departed things; Even as a scent of vernal flowers Hath records fraught with vanished hours;

Such power is thine!—they come, the dead, From the grave's bondage free, And smiling back the changed are led, To look in love on thee; And voices that are music flown Speak to me in the heart's full tone.

Till crowding thoughts my soul oppress, The thoughts of happier years, And a vain gush of tenderness O'erflows in childlike tears;