Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
« Passe."
« PASSE . "
The title of a Nocturne composed by Ignace Tedesco . Down by the streamlet is the willow hovering , Watching the shadows in that rippling tide , Still broods the tree like a deserted sovereign , Over the lily-deck'd but lonely side ; And , wet with morning ' s weeping , the rich wildwood Gleams in the sunlight as it used to do , Waits as of old to hear the laugh of childhood , —
Yet naught but this one word keeps echoing through : Pass £ , Passe *! The old thrush which has built in yonder meadow Full many a year ago her downy nest , Watcheth the morning blush and evening shadow ^
Ever upon the silent landscape rest ; But for the well-known step which oft would linger Till twilight ' s fragile form should softly pass , For the sweet tones of many an infant singer She listeneth vainly ; night winds sigh " Alas !"
Passe ' , PasseM Oh ! Memory like an outcast child doth wander Amid the changeful loveliness of earth , Then sadly sitteth down awhile to ponder Over those scenes to which the past gave birth ;
And she remembereth ' mid her bitter dreaming , Faces and forms she doth too well recall , And mirror'd in their former beauty beaming , —¦ Oft in her anguish crieth , " Where are all ?"
Passe " , Passe *! It is enough to make the footsteps falter , To seek some fav ' rite shadow'd nook alone , To sit beside the old home ' s ruin'd altar , And list for voices which are now unknown ;
Perchance to feel that in the world ' s affection , Peace has not nestled down her gentle head , That naught doth bear home ' s impress or reflection , But old Times with old Fellowship have fled , — Passe , Passe " !
Ah me ! my heart would weary with the straining , The fruitless yearning for the days gone by , Did I not know there is a rest remaining When visions of earth's home-love fade and die ; Where tears , though as the morning dew abounding , Like it dissolve in Heaven ' s translucent light , While through the Angel-courts these words are sounding , Caught up by cherubs as they wing their flight , — Passe " , Passtf ! Emilie Munz .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
« Passe."
« PASSE . "
The title of a Nocturne composed by Ignace Tedesco . Down by the streamlet is the willow hovering , Watching the shadows in that rippling tide , Still broods the tree like a deserted sovereign , Over the lily-deck'd but lonely side ; And , wet with morning ' s weeping , the rich wildwood Gleams in the sunlight as it used to do , Waits as of old to hear the laugh of childhood , —
Yet naught but this one word keeps echoing through : Pass £ , Passe *! The old thrush which has built in yonder meadow Full many a year ago her downy nest , Watcheth the morning blush and evening shadow ^
Ever upon the silent landscape rest ; But for the well-known step which oft would linger Till twilight ' s fragile form should softly pass , For the sweet tones of many an infant singer She listeneth vainly ; night winds sigh " Alas !"
Passe ' , PasseM Oh ! Memory like an outcast child doth wander Amid the changeful loveliness of earth , Then sadly sitteth down awhile to ponder Over those scenes to which the past gave birth ;
And she remembereth ' mid her bitter dreaming , Faces and forms she doth too well recall , And mirror'd in their former beauty beaming , —¦ Oft in her anguish crieth , " Where are all ?"
Passe " , Passe *! It is enough to make the footsteps falter , To seek some fav ' rite shadow'd nook alone , To sit beside the old home ' s ruin'd altar , And list for voices which are now unknown ;
Perchance to feel that in the world ' s affection , Peace has not nestled down her gentle head , That naught doth bear home ' s impress or reflection , But old Times with old Fellowship have fled , — Passe , Passe " !
Ah me ! my heart would weary with the straining , The fruitless yearning for the days gone by , Did I not know there is a rest remaining When visions of earth's home-love fade and die ; Where tears , though as the morning dew abounding , Like it dissolve in Heaven ' s translucent light , While through the Angel-courts these words are sounding , Caught up by cherubs as they wing their flight , — Passe " , Passtf ! Emilie Munz .