WHO longs for music merely longs for Love. For Love is music, and no minstrel needs Save his own sigh to breathe upon the reeds From heart too full, and -- like the adoring dove That cooes all day the darling nest above, Content if hour to happy hour succeeds -- Nor morning's song, nor noon's rich silence, heeds, Nor the old mysteries evening whispers of. But when the voice is echoless, the hand Long empty, then, O wedded harp and flute, Remind us Love's eternal, not Time's toy. O viol, at whose door of pain we stand, Love in thy muted anguish is not mute, But thrills with memory's new-remembered joy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALONZO THE BRAVE AND THE FAIR IMOGINE by MATTHEW GREGORY LEWIS DE RERUM NATURA: BOOK 3. AGAINST THE FEAR OF DEATH by TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS MONOTONOUS VARIETY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TO ONE WHO ASKS by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS BLACK GIRL by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS A LETTER by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 40. PANTHEISTIC DREAMS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) UNCHANGING by FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT CLEVEDON VERSES: 7. NORTON WOOD (DORA'S BIRTHDAY) by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |