A Meeting.

Quite carelessly I turned the newsy sheet;          A song I sang, full many a year ago,              Smiled up at me, as in a busy street          One meets an old-time friend he used to know.              So full it was, that simple little song,          Of all the hope, the transport, and the truth,              Which to the impetuous morn of life belong,          That once again I seemed to grasp my youth.              So full it was of that sweet, fancied pain          We woo and cherish ere we meet with woe,              I felt as one who hears a plaintive strain          His mother sang him in the long ago.              Up from the grave the years that lay between          That song's birthday and my stern present came              Like phantom forms and swept across the scene,          Bearing their broken dreams of love and fame.              Fair hopes and bright ambitions that I knew          In that old time, with their ideal grace,              Shone for a moment, then were lost to view          Behind the dull clouds of the commonplace.              With trembling hands I put the sheet away;          Ah, little song! the sad and bitter truth              Struck like an arrow when we met that day!          My life has missed the promise of its youth.