Oh! touch the chord yet once again, Nor chide me, though I weep the while; Believe me, that deep seraph strain Bore with it memory's moonlight smile. It murmured of an absent friend; The voice, the air, 't was all her own; And hers those wild, sweet notes, which blend In one mild, murmuring, touching tone. And days and months have darkly passed, Since last I listened to her lay; And Sorrow's cloud its shade hath cast, Since then, across my weary way. Yet still the strain comes sweet and clear, Like seraph-whispers, lightly breathing; Hush, busy memory, Sorrow's tear Will blight the garland thou art wreathing. 'T is sweet, though sad -- yes, I will stay, I cannot tear myself away. I thank thee, lady, for the strain, The tempest of my soul is still; Then touch the chord yet once again, For thou canst calm the storm at will! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APRIL, 1885 by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT by ROBERT BURNS DEJECTION: AN ODE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE TYRANNICK [TYRANNIC] LOVE: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN MALVERN HILL [JULY 1, 1862] by HERMAN MELVILLE SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 93 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI HEALTHFUL OLD AGE, FR. AS YOU LIKE IT by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |