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ghosts - elaine hugh-jones lyrics

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sweep thy faint strings, musician
with thy long, lean hand;
downward the starry tapers burn
sinks soft the waning sand;
the old hound whimpers couched in sleep
the embers smoulder low;
across the wall the shadows
come, and go

sweep softly thy strings, musician
the minutes mount to hours;
frost on the windless cas*m*nt weaves
a labyrinth of flowers;
ghosts linger in the darkening air
hearken at the opening door;
music hath called them, dreaming
home once more

- elaine hugh jones lyrics

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