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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO AN ANCIENT LUTE, by JOHN BANISTER TABB Poet's Biography
First Line: As one who on the precincts of a shrine
Last Line: Prepare, my soul, to greet the strain inspired.
Alternate Author Name(s): Father Tabb
Subject(s): Lutes
First Line: As one who on the precincts of a shrine
Last Line: Prepare, my soul, to greet the strain inspired.
Alternate Author Name(s): Father Tabb
Subject(s): Lutes
As one who on the precincts of a shrine
Treads softly lest his footfall, echoing there,
Profane the cloistered solitude of prayer,
So reverence stays this venturous hand of mine
Upon the brink of sound. Lo! themes divine,
Hushed of the folding silence, everywhere,
Upon the drowsy bosom of the air,
Around thy form oblivious recline.
O, bid me wake them! Let me call again
Thy latest born, the last whose lingering sigh
Sank, as departing genius retired,
Into the mist of slumber. Hark, a train
Of echoes heralding the anthem high!
Prepare, my soul, to greet the strain inspired.
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