The holiest of all holidays are those br Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; br The secret anniversaries of the heart, br When the full river of feeling overflows;-- br The happy days unclouded to their close; br The sudden joys that out of darkness start br As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart br Like swallows singing down each wind that blows! br White as the gleam of a receding sail, br White as a cloud that floats and fades in air, br White as the whitest lily on a stream, br These tender memories are;--a fairy tale br Of some enchanted land we know not where, br But lovely as a landscape in a dream.