THE GOLDEN DAYS DEPARTED.
O voices still beneath the churchyard sod,
Bright eyes that glistened from behind long lashes,
Warm beauty early given back to God,
Red lips that now are ashes!
Ah, so it is! all that hath ever been
Experienced by the spirit is immortal;
Each hope and joy and grief is hid within
The memory’s sacred portal.
And yet the soft glow of midnight hour
A strain of haunting music sweet and olden,
A dream, a bird, a bee, a leaf, a flower,
A sunset rich and golden —
Can fling that portal open; and beyong
Appears the record of each earlier feeling;
All hopes, all joys, all fears, all musings fond,
In infinite revealing.
Till all the present passes from sight —
Its cares and woes that make us weary hearted,
And leaves us basking in the holy light
Of golden days departed.
Oshkosh Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Aug 26, 1884