Classic Poem

There are songs that sound in the silence—
Tones from an angel-sphere
Whose harmony comes to beguile hence
Souls whom the saints hold dear.

There are smiles that lighten the midnight
Hours of the heart's unrest
With beautiful rays that bid night
Cease to be all unblest.

But the songs and the smiles are only
Born of a poor worn brain,
Whose morning is far more lonely
Dreaming its dreams again.