Sunday Morning Peace

Enjoy!

Guests Of The Heart

Soft falls through the gathering twilight

The rain from the dripping eaves,

And stirs with a tremulous rustle

The dead and dying leaves;

While afar, in the midst of the shadows,

I hear the sweet voices of bells,

Come borne on the wind of the Autumn

That fitfully rises and swells.

They call and they answer each other,

They answer and mingle again,

As the deep and the shrill in an anthem

Make harmony still in their strain,

As the voices of the sentinels mingle

In mountainous regions of snow,

Till from hill top to hill top a chorus

Floats down to the valley below.

The shadows, the firelight of even,

The sound of the rain's distant chime,

Come bringing, with rain softly dropping,

Sweet thoughts of a shadowy time;

The slumberous sense of seclusion,

The storm and intruders aloof,

We feel when we hear in the midnight

The patter of rain on the roof.

When the spirit goes forth in its yearnings

To take all its wanderers home;

Or, afar in the regions of fancy,

Delights on swift pinions to roam,

I quietly sit by the firelight

The firelight so bright and so warm

For I know that those only who love me

Will seek me through shadow and storm.

But should they be absent this evening,

Should even the household depart,

Deserted, I should not be lonely,

There still would be guests in my heart.

The faces of friends that I cherish,

The smile, and the glance, and the tone,

Will haunt me wherever I wander,

And thus I am never alone.

With those who have left far behind them

The joys and the sorrows of time

Who sing the sweet songs of the angels

In a purer and holier clime!

Then darkly, O evening of Autumn

Your rain and your shadows may fall

My loved and my lost ones you bring me

My heart holds a feast with them all.

--Author Unknown