THOUGH tuneless, stringless, it lies there in dust, Like some great thought on a forgotten page; The soul of music cannot fade or rust, -- The voice within it stronger grows with age; Its strings and bow are only trifling things -- A master-touch! -- its sweet soul wakes and sings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OBERMANN ONCE MORE by MATTHEW ARNOLD SONNETS TO LAURA IN LIFE: 109 by PETRARCH EPITAPH ON CHARLES II by JOHN WILMOT FAREWELL, UNKIST by THOMAS WYATT EURIPIDES by ALEXANDER AETOLUS WITH MY FANCY by KONSTANTIN DMITRIYEVICH BALMONT HYMN TO HORUS by MATHILDE BLIND |