Little Things.

Often, little things we hear1
Often, little things we see,2
Waken thoughts that long have slept3
Deep down in our memory.4
Strangely slight the circumstance5
That has force to turn the mind6
Backward on the path of years,7
To the loved scenes far behind !8
’Tis the perfume of a flower,9
Or a quaint old-fashioned tune ;10
Or a song-bird ’mid the leaves11
Singing in the sunny June.12
’Tis the evening-star, mayhap,13
In the gloaming silver-bright ;14
Or a gold and purple cloud15
Waning in the western light.16
’Tis the rustling of a dress,17
Or a certain tone of voice,18
That can make the pulses throb,19
That can bid the heart rejoice.20
Ah, my heart !  But not of joy21
Must alone thy history tell,22
Sorrow, shame, and bitter tears23
Little things recall as well.24