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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