Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO AN OLD SWEETHEART, by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE



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TO AN OLD SWEETHEART, by            
First Line: Strange, is it not, that I should pass to-day
Last Line: In which the fond old melody was mute.
Subject(s): Love; Old Age


STRANGE, is it not, that I should pass to-day
Amid the whirling crowd and softly hear
Borne from a stranger's lips in accents clear
Thy magic name? — it seemed so like a play —
Pausing, I turned, but on his blissful way
He lightly fled, as though no human ear
By word of his could start with joy or fear —
Poor man! he little dreamed what he did say.
Then, standing in that moving maze of men,
The old, deep wounds began anew to bleed,
I felt like him who, grasping for his flute
To ease his anguish with old tunes again,
Found that his hand but held a rifted reed
In which the fond old melody was mute.





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