From: Poems (1844)
Author: Christopher Pearse Cranch
Published: Carey and Hart 1844 Philadelphia



O MEMORY, sweet sorceress of time,
Strange saddener or hours brightest in our Past,
Yet sweet in dreamy sadness—thou hast cast
Thy magic chain around me. Now the chime
Of faint departing voices wins my soul
Back to the unseen altar where the heart
Once poured its fullest worship; lightnings dart
Electric,—yet no startling thunders roll,
But only murmur distantly and sad.
‘Tis there thou dwell’st, unnamed but unforgot,
O vision once so dear! a different lot
Is thine, is mine, and we have truly had
All that this life could portion us together,
Parted at length by storms or wintry weather.


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