The Dream-Way

It did not look so far, and yet, and yet,

The moments were so easy to forget,

For now without your hand to guide, it seems

I seek in vain to find a way of dreams.

A moon-lit path between aspiring trees,

’Neath wind-blown leaves rustling in harmonies,

A little song that I may never sing—

But oh, the wondrous memory lingering.

And though I never may return until

I clasp your hand beyond these years, why still

There is one guide the path of life along—

A fleeting end of dream-remembered song.

The Spirit of Autumn

Where the winds low list and the leafless trees

Stand gaunt and gray ’gainst the sullen sky,

The naked boughs whisper melodies

Of Summer spent and of Spring gone by—

Of days once glad that are gone forever,

Of lips once true that will answer never,

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