* * * * *
All was silent — silent — silent —
Faded was the vision bright —
But the pilgrim long remembered
In his heart that Christmas night.
A Reverie ["Those hearts of ours — how strange! how strange!">[
Those hearts of ours — how strange! how strange!
How they yearn to ramble and love to range
Down through the vales of the years long gone,
Up through the future that fast rolls on.
To-days are dull — so they wend their ways
Back to their beautiful yesterdays;
The present is blank — so they wing their flight
To future to-morrows where all seems bright.
Build them a bright and beautiful home,
They'll soon grow weary and want to roam;
Find them a spot without sorrow or pain,
They may stay a day, but they're off again.
Those hearts of ours — how wild! how wild!
They're as hard to tame as an Indian child;
They're as restless as waves on the sounding sea,
Like the breeze and the bird are they fickle and free.
Those hearts of ours — how lone! how lone!
Ever, forever, they mourn and moan;
Let them revel in joy, let them riot in cheer;
The revelry o'er, they're all the more drear.
Those hearts of ours — how warm! how warm!
Like the sun's bright rays, like the Summer's charm;
How they beam and burn! how they gleam and glow
Their flash and flame hide but ashes below.
Those hearts of ours — how cold! how cold!
Like December's snow on the waste or wold;
And though our Decembers melt soon into May,
Hearts know Decembers that pass not away.