LINKS.

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Are there not words, too, strangely sweet, Thoughts, musings, memories, strangely dear?

So lovingly the soul they greet,

So gently steal they on the ear! Common the words may be and weak, The passing stranger owns them not; To other ears in vain they speak,

Unknown, unrelished, or forgot. Rich in old thoughts, these words appear, Part of our being's mighty whole; Linked with our life's strange story here, Knit to each feeling of our soul. Linked with the scenes of days gone past, With all life's earnest hopes and fears, Linked with the smiles that did not last, The joys and griefs of faded years. Linked with old dreams once dreamt in youth, When dreams were gladder, truer things, When each night's vision of bright truth, Lent to each buoyant day its wings, Linked with the whisper of the trees,

When summer- eves were fair and still; Set to the music of the breeze,

Or murmur of the twilight rill.

Linked with some scene of sacred calm, Of holy places, holy days; Linked with the prayer, the hymn, the psalm, The multitude's glad voice of praise.