Poems (Helen Jenkins)/Memories

For works with similar titles, see Memories.
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MEMORIES.
Sweet pictures bright come back to-night  From the old, old happy years,When, nestled in my father's arms,My hands clasped softly in his palms,  He soothed my childish fears.
In all the land, never so grand  Or sweet has music seemed,As that glorious, rare old hymnSung in the twilight soft and dim,  While the stars above us gleamed.
And listening still, I feel the thrill  Of perfect joy once more:"While shepherds watched their flocks,"—Surely, I heard the rippling brooks,  In dreamland, o'er and o'er!
And on the ground, seated around,  I saw their faces shine."The angel of the Lord came down,"—I saw the harp and golden crown,  The glory all divine.
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The world grew bright with holy light  When came the seraph throng,With gleaming garments white and fair.Their joyous voices filled the air,—  "Praise God," their thrilling song.
O years gone by! why will ye fly  And leave but shadows drear?The dreams, the aspirations wild,The yearning hopes of the eager child,  Fruitless and vain appear.
Yet once again, with cruel pain,  Each blighted hope I trace.'Twas sweet to dream in the long ago,Though idle folly it seemeth now,  For lack of gift or grace.
My dreams are o'er; and evermore  Beyond my reach I seeThe boon I thought earth's highest good.Dear Jesus, Thou hast understood,  And yet denied it me.
Thou knowest why I may not fly,—  A fledgeling poor and weak.I know that on that other shoreMy spirit fetterless shall soar,  My voiceless soul shall speak.
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