HARP of wild and dream-like strain, When I touch thy strings, Why dost thou repeat again Long-forgotten things? Harp, in other earlier days I could sing to thee, And not one of all my lays Vexed my memory. But now if I awake a note That gave me joy before, Sounds of sorrow from thee float, Changing evermore. Yet still steeped in memory's dyes They come sailing on, Darkening all my summer skies, Shutting out my sun | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 19. SILENT NOON by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI UPON THE LATE LAMENTABLE ACCIDENT OF FIRE ... by JOHN ALLISON (1645-1683) UNBELIEVABLE by EDITH GRACE BERKNESS THE CHILD'S GRAVE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN GRANDMOTHER'S GARDEN by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: THE CANTICLE OF LOVE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |