In the pregnant chords of a once loved song

Memory speaks at last.

Of the golden summer eves,

Shrined in the mists of years

And a world of hopes! Dear God, what hopes,

Born to the soul in tears.

But the youthful hopes creep by,

Stealing with solemn chime

To a finite grave. They will rise in faith

When Eternity conquers Time.[Pg 38]

[Pg 38]

Dream-laden, tender song,

Sacred and sweet and old,

With the lingering touch of a bygone age,

I have scanned again in thy down-turned page,

A tale that was long since told.

[Pg 39]

[Pg 39]

The Sinner's Dreaming

When the great sun flung bands of gold

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