MUSINGS

Often o'er life's pathway straying

Come sweet strains of long ago,

To the chords of memory playing

Music sweet and music low.

When upon the gray rock musing

‘ Neath the tree by childhood's home,

In the wild bird's note so soothing

Tenderly these strains will come.

Gazing on the deep fringed mountain,

Distance robing it in blue,

Quaffing the familiar fountain,

Each repeats the story too.

Wandering by the streamlet flowing

Where we played in hours of glee,

Hear its murmurs coming, going,

Tell of joys that used to be.

Wandering in the leafy wildwood

Sometimes in our leisure hours,

In the sunny days of childhood

How much fairer seemed its flowers!

Watching from the hill the sunset

‘ Neath the spreading chestnut tree,

Youthful dreams and visions come yet

Through the years so magically.

Yet how vain these memories olden

If they do not teach the truth

That within the city golden

Only, dwells perpetual youth.