Classic Poem

BY WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER .

There 's a voice from every bird,
There 's a tone in every tree,
That recalls some burning word
I have uttered when with thee:
There 's an eye in every star,
There 's a look in every cloud,
That bears my thoughts alar
Where thou rulest Fashion's crowd.

Every sweet and breathing flow'r
That scents the twilight breeze,
Hath a ministry and pow'r
Over " Olden Memories: "
Every ripple of the stream
That goes singing on its way,
Hath a tale of boyhood's dream,
And of manhood's merry May.

I have treasured every look,
I have garnered every tone,
Till my heart is like a book
Fill'd with memories alone:
I have asked no higher bliss,
'Mid the world's incessant din,
Since our last hope died, than this —
To dream of what hath been.

And in the silence of the night.
And 'mid the bustle of the day,
Oft a vision glads my sight,
And I wish it not away:
But I wonder then if thou,
In thy lar and wedded home,
Ever think'st of him who now
To thy presence may not come.