Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905 · [New York : Scribner & Co.] · leaf 484
Oer the rain-washed roofs the chilling winds of winter sweep,And, blending with their mournful sound, I seem to hear a strainOf sweetest music, soft and low, above the plash of driving rain —A melody whose faintest echoes roll forever in my soul. … One summer day long, long ago, when raindrops fell (thus angels weep),When winds blew as they blow to-night, and clouds obscured the dusky pole,A friends lithe fingers touched the keys and filled the air with harmony.Wheneer the wind sweeps from the sky it bears thoseechoes back to me. Again I hear…
Children's literature
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