Play Of The Imagination Poem by Charles Frederick White

Hark! I hear the sound of singing,
And of sleigh-bells, gaily ringing,
And the sound of steeds fast springing,
Fleeting o'er the frozen snow.
Now are cheers and bursts of laughter!
Louder, louder, as though faster,
Thinking, never of disaster,
While adown the lane they go!
Now the sound of horns and jingles,
As a sweet voice with it mingles,
Steals upon my ear and tingles,
Lingers, while the moon hangs low.
Now the sounds are growing fainter;—
Distance makes enchantment daintier
As the hour grows still and quainter,—
Till they die away so low,
Scarce I hear them in the distance
While, intent, my strained ear listens
O'er the snow which 'round me glistens:
Now they're gone.—From memory?—No.