In Winter Time
Though leafless are my trees-
My trees so tall and stately-
And silently from these
My birds have flitted lately;
Though many joys I've known,
As sweet as baby laughter,
Which have forever flown-
And sorrow follows after;
Though dead my summer flowers,
And winds are bleak and dreary,
I shall not waste the hours
In vain lament, my dearie,
Nor miss the gay carouse
Of bobolink and linnet,
If still my heart shall house
A singing bird within it.
The Heart Will Remember
When life burns to ashes that hold but an ember-
A fast-fading spark of their olden-time glow-
The head may forget, but the heart will remember
The deeper delights of the days long ago.
A mother's devotion, unfailing, unbounded,
Her loving caresses, her smiles and her tears;
A sister's affection no plummet hath sounded,
No tempest hath ruffled in all the long years.
Another- a vision of beauty and splendor
That Time and his shadows can never eclipse-
Comes back in the gloaming, with eyes soft and tender,
And thrills you again with the touch of her lips.
The world is enchanted, a wonderful palace,
Dream-built and celestial, inviting repose;
You drink the rich draught of a nectar-brimmed chalice,
And life is as fragrant and sweet as the rose.
It may be that still in your memory lingers
A child's artless prattle, with love in its tone,
The sweet pressure felt of a baby's soft fingers-
White, clinging and dimpled- entwined with your own.
Nor darkness, nor slumber, effaces the token
That Sorrow, unbidden, once came as your guest;
That voice has been hushed into silence unbroken-
Those hands now are folded in infinite rest.
Your steps may be slow, and your locks may be hoary-
Approaching the end of your pilgrimage here;
And yet, the recital of one little story,
Like rain in the desert, will freshen and cheer.
No matter what treasures, from May to December-
What favors of fortune have come at your call-
The head may forget, but the heart will remember
That Love was the jewel outshining them all!
