Your Songs

When first you sang a song to me

With laughter shining from your eyes, 

You trolled your music liltingly

With cadences of glad surprise. 



In after years I heard you croon

In measures delicately slow 

Of trees turned silver by the moon

And nocturnes sprites and lovers know. 



And now I cannot hear you sing, 

But love still holds your melody

For silence is a sounding thing

To one who listens hungrily.