A Passing Melody
A chord was touched on the harp of my heart,
On the delicate strings at the core;
A tender, hesitating part
I had never heard before.
It quivered there one moment brief,
Awakening hopes and fears,
Imparting joy, suggesting grief,
Then melted into tears.
Oh! was it a long lost love that cleaves
To the dead, forgotten past?
Or but the rustling of the leaves,
Stirred by the winter's blast?
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