IN the full tide of melody and mirth, While joy's bright spirit beams from every eye, Forget not him, whose soul, though fled from earth, Seems yet to speak in strains that cannot die. Forget him not, for many a festal hour, Charmed by those strains for us has lightly flown: And memory's visions, mingling with their power, Wake the heart's thrill at each familiar tone. Blest be the harmonist, whose well-known lays Revive life's morning dreams, when youth is fled, And, fraught with images of other days, Recall the loved, the absent, and the dead. His the dear art whose spells awhile renew Hope's first illusions in their tenderest bloom -- Oh! what were life, unless such moments threw Bright gleams, "like angel visits," o'er its gloom? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DR. SCUDDER'S CLINICAL LECTURE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO DEAN-BOURN, A RUDE RIVER IN DEVON, BY WHICH ... HE LIVED by ROBERT HERRICK VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1880 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI HYMN ON SOLITUDE by JAMES THOMSON (1700-1748) SUNDAY UP THE RIVER: 15 by JAMES THOMSON (1834-1882) ON THE SUN COMING OUT IN THE AFTERNOON by HENRY DAVID THOREAU |