The Tunes Dan Harrison Used to Play

Ofttimes when recollections throng Serenely back from childhood years, Awaking thoughts that slumbered long, Compelling smiles or starting tears, The music of a violin Seems through my window floating in,— I think I hear from far away The tunes Dan Harrison used to play.

Dan Harrison! I see him there Beside the roaring winter hearth, Fiddling away all mundane care, His genial face aglow with mirth; And when he laid his bow aside, “Well done! well done!” he cheerly cried; Well done, well done, indeed were they, The tunes Dan Harrison used to play.

I do not know what tunes he played, I cannot name one melody; His instrument was never made In old Cremona, o’er the sea; Yet from its chords his raptured skill Drew magic strains my soul to thrill, Some ah so mournful, some so gay, The tunes Dan Harrison used to play.

I have been witness to the art Of many a master of the bow, But none have power to charm the heart Like him I listened long ago; Love stole on tiptoe through my trance To welcome dream-eyed young Romance, Responsive to the passioned sway Of tunes Dan Harrison used to play.

Now with the music, as it floats, Seraphic harping faintly blends; I catch amid the mingling notes Familiar voices of old friends; While choral echoes sweetly fall, Of yearning love angelical, And melt, like trembling tears, away, In tunes Dan Harrison used to play.