Poems (Helen Jenkins)/Memories
For works with similar titles, see Memories.
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.
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 hymn
Sung in the twilight soft and dim,
While the stars above us gleamed.
Or sweet has music seemed,
As that glorious, rare old hymn
Sung 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!
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.
I saw their faces shine.
"The angel of the Lord came down,"—
I saw the harp and golden crown,
The glory all divine.
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.
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.
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.
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 see
The boon I thought earth's highest good.
Dear Jesus, Thou hast understood,
And yet denied it me.
Beyond my reach I see
The 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 shore
My spirit fetterless shall soar,
My voiceless soul shall speak.
A fledgeling poor and weak.
I know that on that other shore
My spirit fetterless shall soar,
My voiceless soul shall speak.