HOW is it that before mine eyes, While gazing on thy mien, All my past years of life arise, As in a mirror seen? What spell within thee hath been shrined To image back my own deep mind? Even as a song of other times Can trouble memory's springs; Even as a sound of vesper-chimes Can wake departed things; Even as a scent of vernal flowers Hath records fraught with vanished hours. -- Such power is thine! They come, the dead, From the grave's bondage free, And smiling back the changed are led To look in love on thee; And voices that are music flown Speak to me in the heart's full tone: Till crowding thoughts my soul oppress -- The thoughts of happier years -- And a vain gush of tenderness O'erflows in childlike tears; A passion which I may not stay, A sudden fount that must have way. But thou, the while -- oh! almost strange, Mine imaged self! it seems That on @3thy@1 brow of peace no change Reflects my own swift dreams; Almost I marvel not to trace Those lights and shadows in @3thy@1 face. To see @3thee@1 calm, while powers thus deep -- Affection, Memory, Grief -- Pass o'er my soul as winds that sweep O'er a frail aspen leaf! Oh, that the quiet of thine eye Might sink there when the storm goes by Yet look thou still serenely on, And if sweet friends there be That when my song and soul are gone Shall seek my form in thee, -- Tell them of one for whom 'twas best To flee away and be at rest! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRAVEL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 92 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE YOUNG CARPENTER by AL-RUSAFI ODE TO THE CONNECTICUT RIVER by JOSIAS LYNDON ARNOLD A FRAGMENT OF AN EPIC POEM, OCCASIONED BY THE LOSS OF A GAME by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |