I am haunted by phantom sounds tonight
Of the music of long ago,
Whose shadowy notes in reverie's light
Set fond memory all aglow.
As skilful a hand picks my heartstrings now,
When the tremulous notes die out,
As when in those days the player somehow
Mingled sunshine with shadows of doubt.
A beautiful hand swept the keys of old;
A hand that was sculptured in love;
And the gentle touch in the music told
Of saints here as well as above.
There floats tonight through my soul's music-hall
The old songs of my sweetheart loved well.
And mem'ries of youth, of love-time, and all
Come back by the conjurer's spell.
There flits in and out of my soul's song-room,
A sweet air in a minor key;
And it fills me now with the same dull gloom
As when 't was first given to me.
She played those sad notes in our sweetheart days,
And I heard them and felt them, too;
For I covered the page with brighter lays,
Lest our lives wear a somber hue.
Oft when the day had its measure of care,
Together at twilight we played;
And the song seemed as if some new words were there,
That thrilled me as though she had prayed.
I'm dreaming tonight of a harp of gold,
Caressed by her hands white as snow;
The melodies charm with the sweetness of old--
Those soft airs of the long ago!
