Music of Yesterday

The chord, the harp’s full chord is hush’d,
The voice hath died away,
Whence music, like sweet waters, gush’d
But yesterday.

Th’ awakening note, the breeze-like swell.
The full o’ersweeping tone,
The sounds that sigh’d “Farewell, farewell!”
Are gone--all gone!

The love, whose fervent spirit pass’d
With the rich measure’s flow;
The grief, to which it sank at last--
Where are they now?

They are with the scents by summer’s breath
Borne from a rose now shed:
With the words from lips long seal’d in death--
For ever fled.

The sea-shell of its native deep
A moaning thrill retains;
But earth and air no record keep
Of parted strains.

And all the memories, all the dreams,
They woke in floating by;
The tender thoughts, th’ Elysian gleams--
Could these too die?

They died! As on the water’s breast
The ripple melts away,
When the breeze that stirr’d it sinks to rest--
So perish’d they!

Mysterious in their sudden birth,
And mournful in their close,
Passing, and finding not on earth
Aim or repose.

Whence were they?--like the breath of flowers
Why thus to come and go?
A long, long journey must be ours
Ere this we know!