O, when Memory brings her light,
And sweetly calls me home,
Swifter than the swallow's flight,
Bright visions to me come.
Such fond Memory brings
On her golden wings,—
O, she brings them with her light,
And sweetly calls me home.

Visions, veiled in roseate light,
Then gently round me throng;
Softest tones of young delight,
Sweet tones, forgotten long,
Melt into my soul,
While with blest control,
Hopes and fancies, starry bright,
Mingle in the song.

Memory, be thou ever near,
To glad me on my way:
Thy light to greet, thy voice to hear,
O, I would fondly stay.
Days that knew no shade,
Ah! they never fade,—
Beams from Heaven's eternal year
Still lightly o'er them play.
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