Frederick George Scott
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!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (At Nightfall by Frederick George Scott )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- The Father of My Country, Diane Wakoski
- Life may move, hasmukh amathalal
- Baby, you are poetry!, PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- Thanking My Mother for Piano Lessons, Diane Wakoski
- Risa, Matthew Hunt
- Inside Out, Diane Wakoski
- Blue Monday, Diane Wakoski
- Belly Dancer, Diane Wakoski
- nigeria freedom, ademola oluwabusayo
- I Am A Frog, Lilly Emery