For he sees his wife as he saw her then A matron comely and fair, With her children gathered around his board And never a vacant chair. Oh! happy this dream of the "Auld Lang Syne," And the old man's lips have gathered a smile But a kiss falls gently upon his brow, The old man wakes at his daughter's call, "There's one of us missing, my child," he says, "We will wait till mother is here." There are tears in the eyes of his children, then, For many a lonely year has passed But the old man pleads still wistfully; Then, leaving a smile for the children here, And has gone to "mother," beyond the skies, 7 Thought. HOUGHT is deeper than all speech, Souls to souls can never teach What unto themselves was taught. We are spirits clad in veils; Man by man was never seen; Heart to heart was never known; Of a temple once complete. Like the stars that gem the sky, In our light we scattered lie; All is thus but starlight here. What is social company But a babbling Summer stream? What our wise philosophy But the glancing of a dream? Only when the sun of love Melts the scattered stars of thought, Only when we live above What the dim-eyed world has taught, Only when our souls are fed By the fount which gave them birth, And by inspiration led Which they never drew from earth,— We, like parted drops of rain, Swelling till they meet and run, Shall be all absorbed again, Melting, flowing into one. |