Page 299 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...
P. 299

W atched  his  ghost-like  fingers flitting,
                                       Likened  to  the  music  weeping.

                                       From  its  tears  he  sought  to  borrow
                                          Solace  for  his  bitter  angu'sh,
                                          l ’eace  for  all  tilings  doomed  to  languish
                                       In  the  bleeding  breast  of  sorrow.

                                       And  as  rises  from  the  ocean,
                                          Bright  and  beautiful,  the  morn'ng,
                                          Hill  and  mead  and  stream  adoi ..mg—
                                       Rose  the  past  to  his  emotion.

                                       On  its  wings  the  music  bore him
                                          Straight  from  city,  street  and  alley,
                                          Bore  him  to  his  own  loved valley,
                                       Set  the  lordly  Rhine  before  him.

                                       Home  lie saw,  familiar places,
                                          Vine-clad  hills  and  shining  meadows;
                                          And  from  out  the  deepening  shadows
                                       Crowded  long-forgotten  faces.

                                       And  he  heard  the  low  of  cattle,
                                          And  the  goat-beils  tinkling  faintly,
                                          And  the  brown  bees  murmuring  quaintly
                                       To  the  brooklet’s  merry  prattle.

                                       A nd  the  sound  of  falling water
                                         With  it  brought  a  vision  holy,
                                         For where turned  the mill-wheel  slowly,
                                       Smiled  the  miner’s  gentle  daughter.

                                       And  in  accents  soft  and  tender
                                         Spake  he  as  in  times  long  vanished,
                                         Ere by  ruthless  fortune  banished
                                       From  the presence of  her  splendor.
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