Memories

Oh, sweetest music
Trembling to my lips
An old-time song of hers, familiar slips
Till I remember, grieving as I must
Her lips are dust
Her lips are dust

Oh, sweetest music, stirring with its beat
The heart of me, to measures sadly sweet;
But her glad heart, which once with mine did thrill
Her heart is still
Her heart is still

Oh, sweetest music
Dreaming of the morning
I hear her softly singing in the corn
I hear and thrill with rapture at the tone
But wake alone
But wake alone