AT times, when, with an anguish all too keen, The violin doth tensely tell of grief, Tugging at heart-strings till the tale, I ween, Is over-cruel, calls for some relief: I joy to hear, like cooings of lost doves, The grave viola plaining of old loves. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CAMBODIAN BOX by KAREN SWENSON ANSWER TO MASTER WITHER'S SONG, 'SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR?' by BEN JONSON THE FIRST DANDELION by WALT WHITMAN THE MORAL FABLES: THE COCK AND THE FOX by AESOP LOVE SONGS: 8 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) FANTASIA IN E MINOR by ELIZABETH BUSH NAMBY-PAMBY. A PANEGYRIC ON THE NEW VERSIFICATION by HENRY CAREY (1687-1743) |