Comments on: Love’s Old Sweet Song

By: lindberg

lindberg — Sat, 16 Feb 2013 22:59:08 +0000

While we’re on the topic of music, “Love’s Old Sweet Song” is an Irish folk song published in 1884.

Once in the dear dead days beyond recall,
When on the world the mists began to fall,
Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng
Low to our hearts Love sang an old sweet song;
And in the dusk where fell the firelight gleam,
Softly it wove itself into our dream.

Just a song a twilight, when the lights are low,
And the flick’ring shadows softly come and go,
Tho’ the heart be weary, sad the day and long,
Still to us at twilight comes Love’s old song,
comes Love’s old sweet song.

Even today we hear Love’s song of yore,
Deep in our hearts it dwells forevermore.
Footsteps may falter, weary grow the way,
Still we can hear it at the close of day.
So till the end, when life’s dim shadows fall,
Love will be found the sweetest song of all.

[repeat chorus]

By: lindberg

lindberg — Sat, 16 Feb 2013 22:51:25 +0000

Mormon connection: the song was covered by Marie Osmond on her third album in 1975.

By: lindberg

lindberg — Sat, 16 Feb 2013 22:46:42 +0000

“Among My Souvenirs,” a number one hit in 1928.

By: Marilyn O.

Marilyn O. — Sat, 16 Feb 2013 22:25:17 +0000

I loved old-fashioned books when I was young (early 1960′s), and read pretty much everything in print by Louisa May Alcott. I took to heart her heavy-duty preaching to her contemporary young readers, especially on topics like the evils of “painting” (makeup) and flirting (deceptive and untruthful). Even now, I feel conflicted about makeup, and wear it only rarely. It’s funny to me how things have turned around in the church since the days of this Relief Society story: my mother endlessly encouraged me all through my lengthy, (flirting-free) single years to wear more makeup, with little success. My husband has cheerfully resigned himself to my bare face–at church I’m at least two standard deviations below the mormon glamour standard. I have a great ward family, though, who couldn’t care less. Bless them.

By: Ardis E. Parshall

Ardis E. Parshall — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 11:51:47 +0000

It’s from an old song of lost love, Julia:

There’s nothing left for me of days that used to be,
There’s just a memory among my souvenirs,
Some letters tied in blue, a photograph or two,
I see a rose from you among my souvenirs.

A few more tokens rest within my treasure chest,
And though they do their best to give me consolation
I count them all apart and as the teardrops start,
I find a broken heart among my souvenirs.

By: Julia

Julia — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 10:56:37 +0000

My life hasn’t ever been quite this tidy, but it it is a sweet story. I’m not sure that I understand why the Valentine with the crushed crystal would make the find leap to makeup, but probably it made sense to the readers at the time.

I am wondering if anyone knows the meaning behind, “The proverbial letters tied with blue” means. It is an expression I have not heard before.