Poems by Themis

Memories

Sometimes I wonder what voices speak

Within the strains that come to us;

Perhaps a chorus from the Greek,

Perhaps some echo mysterious

Of melodies of Spain or France,

Or lilt of English country-song;

Faint rhythms of an Indian dance;

— To whom do all these tunes belong?

The rivers of far ages flow

With a thousand muffled murmurings

To subterranean wells below,

From where our inner fountain springs.

The dreams of many by-gone earths

Mingle within our memories,

And memories of other births,

And life in other realms than these.

So charged each word with inward stress

Reverberates from caverns deep,

And in the silent heart's recess

Its folded meanings rise in sleep.

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