At Nightfall

O little hands, long vanished in the night--
Sweet fairy hands that were my treasure here--
My heart is full of music from some sphere,
Where ye make melody for God's delight.
Though autumn clouds obscure the starry height,
And winds are noisy and the land is drear,
In this blank room I feel my lost love near,
And hear you playing--hands so small and white.
The shadowy organ sings its songs again,
The dead years turn to music at its voice,
And all the dreams come back my brain did store.
Once more, dear hands, ye soothe me in my pain,
Once more your music makes my heart rejoice--
God speed the day we clasp for evermore!

by Frederick George Scott

Comments (9)

A touching lovely poem depicting a trip down the memory lane.
A memorable trip down the memory lane in company of cherished recollections.
Sad, but beautifully versed poem.
The poet seems to be in a sad mood remembering his lost love. A very well rhymed poem that touches ones heart.
Light, delight! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
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