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A MEMORY OF SONG 
 
A MEMORY OF SONG 
 
 BY 
 
 LUCIUS PERRY HILLS 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH PAINTINGS FROM LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 VOLNEY ALLAN RICHARDSON 
 
 ATLANTA, Ga. 
 
 The Franklin publishing Co. 
 
 1903 
 
THE LIBRARY Or 
 
 CONGRESS, 
 Two Cowoe Received 
 
 CLASS OL XXa NoJ 
 
 -) C. -) -2. / 
 
 COPY a 
 
 
 Copyrighted by LUCIUS PERRY HILLS. 1903. 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
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Pen Drawing from an Early Portrait. 
 
TO 
 
 ADALINA PATTI BARONESS CEDERSTROM 
 "THE QUEEN OF SONG" 
 
 THIS LITTLE BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
 
 AS A FEEBLE TRIBUTE FROM THE AUTHOR 
 
 JO THE INSPIRATION. 
 
Explapatorc) fiote. 
 
 "A Dream of Sono; " is a revision and elabora- 
 tion of the six- verse poem " When Patti Sang," 
 originally written on the back of a program at the 
 Patti Concert, given in DeGive's Grand Opera Honse, 
 Atlanta, Ga., Jannary ii, 1894, and published at the 
 time in a souvenir booklet for private distribution 
 among the personal friends of the Singer and the 
 Author. 
 
 The revised poem, embellished with illustrations 
 painted from life, together with reproductions of 
 some rare photographs, and published under a new 
 title, is now offered to the general public in antici- 
 pation of the great Singer's return to America, 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 FROM PHOTOGRAPHS. 
 
 Where Patti Sang ; Stage of Grand Opera 
 House, x\tlanta, Ga. 
 
 Pen Drawing from an Early Portrait. 
 
 From an Early Photograph taken in St. 
 Petersburg. 
 
 Craig-y-nos Castle, Patti's Home in Wales. 
 
 In an Arbor at Craig-y-nos. 
 
 FROM PAINTINGS BY V. A. RICHARDSON. 
 
 ■ Firelight Fancies. 
 " Home, Sweet Home." 
 " SuwANEE River." 
 " Coming Through the Rye." 
 " Last Rose OF Summer." 
 A Memory of the Past. 
 A Dream of Song. 
 
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 FiRKLlGHT I'ANCIES. 
 

 Alone by the firelight's fitful gleam 
 
 I sit in my easy chair, 
 And watch in the flames the by-gone scenes 
 
 Which my fancy pictnres there ; 
 
 
 
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 And as mid the curling smoke and flame 
 The pictnred fancies glow, 
 
 I catch the trace of a beantifnl face, 
 While I dream of the long ago. 
 
 
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From an Early Photograph takf.n in St. Prtersbitro. 
 

 I dream of friends whom I have dearly loved, 
 And those whose kindly words have cheered my 
 heart, 
 
 Of those who have my better natnre moved 
 Bv the weird magic of some heaven-born art : 
 
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 Of those who by the power on them bestowed, 
 Or with the genius which to them was giv^en, 
 
 Have often lightened my life's weary load, 
 And raised ni}' fainting spirit nearer Heaven : 
 
 
 
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 And as the visions of those dear ones here, 
 Like angel visitors around me throng, 
 
 The night wind whispers to my listening ear 
 Like faint and far-off echoings of song. 
 
 
Craig-y-nos Castle, Path's Home in Wales. 
 

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 Dreams are but echoes of the heart's emotion, 
 Whose shifting tides forever ebb and flow, 
 
 As cahns and storms upon life's troubled ocean 
 Bring to each soul its happiness or woe. 
 
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 For whatsoever stirs the fount of feeling 
 
 Which lies deep-hidden in the human breast, 
 
 Can set the stormy waves of passion reeling, 
 Or soothe the troubled waters into rest. 
 
 
 

 But naught can wake so fond a recollection, 
 
 Or give the streams of thought so pure a flow, 
 
 As some grand human voice in its perfection, 
 Singing the dear old songs of long ago. 
 
 
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 So, when I heard the world's great Song-Queen 
 singing 
 
 Those melodies we all so love to hear, 
 It set the bells of memory to ringing 
 
 Their sacred chimes, harmonious and clear ; 
 
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 Till tuneful Muses, 'wakened from their slumbers 
 By the sweet strains that floated on the air, 
 
 Sang to my soul in most melodious numbers, 
 Which left a never-dying echo there. 
 
 
 
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 And now, although my rhymes may often jingle 
 In tuneless clamor or discordant clang, 
 
 Still with my brightest visions ever mingle 
 
 The thoughts which came to me while Patti sang. 
 
In an Arbor at Craig-y-nos, 
 

 
 
 
 When Patti sang I sat entranced amid the 
 
 'raptnred throng, 
 And listened to the ninsic of that old, familiar 
 song, 
 
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 Till from each isle and continent where weary 
 
 pilgrims roam, 
 I heard glad voices echoing the strains of 
 
 "Home, Sweet Home," 
 
 
 
"Home, Sweet Home. 
 
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 And when she sang another song, I seemed 
 
 to hear the flow 
 Of Snwanee's placid waters, touched with the 
 
 sunset's glow; 
 
 
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 And the south wind softly singing to the 
 
 cypress and the pine, 
 Filled the grand old forest arches with a 
 
 melody divine. 
 
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SUWANEE KlVER. 
 
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 Then suddenly I thought I heard, amid the 
 
 rustling grain, 
 A tender v^oice repeat the old, old story once 
 
 again ; 
 
 

 Wliile the sound of lovers' kisses floated out 
 
 upon the air, 
 And all the world seemed brighter still for 
 
 Patti's singing there. 
 
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Coming Through THii; Rye;," 
 

 Then I saw the withered rose leaves fall quiv- 
 ering to the ground, 
 
 And angels must have listened to the low 
 and plaintive sound 
 
 
That came driflino^, drifting to me, and fell 
 
 upon my ears 
 Like snow-flakes turned to music, and then 
 
 meltinQ: into tears. 
 
 
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Last Rose of Summer. 
 
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 And all the while sweet harmonies crept down 
 
 into my heart. 
 And nestled in a home from which they never 
 
 can depart ; 
 
 
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 For as life's ever changing tides of joy and 
 sorrow roll, 
 
 The memory of her voice will still keep sing- 
 ing in my soul. 
 
 
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A Memory of the Pasi. 
 

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 And when at last life's evening shadows 
 across my pathway fall, 
 
 And pictures of the past grow dim on mem- 
 ory's crumbling wall, 
 
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 That one fond recollection will its brigfhtness 
 
 still retain, 
 For I shall dream I hear her sins: those dear 
 
 old songs again. 
 
 '9 
 
 
 
A Dream of Song. 
 
:< ly 1903 
 
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