The Old Organist

In tlirougb tho window steals the silent splendor Of fuding twilight. Lttce a blessing there It lingera with a touch so soft and tender Upon an old man's fkrwing silver hair. Tho pewa aro vacant, bnt for shadows ñitting With silent tread along the narrow aisle, And like dim spirit f orms within them sitting, Or bowing in devotion there tho while. Beside the organ eita the okl man, playing A tune so sud that sorrow sceins the theme. His fingora o'er tho yellow keya are straying, A3 thongh he played it all within a dream. His tearNdtm eyea sco not with mortal visión, The musio lioars his spirit far nway Into a splcndor land of lifo elyslan, Where peace and pleasura crown an endless