COME, take the harp -- 'tis vain to muse Upon the gathering ills we see; Oh! take the harp and let me lose All thoughts of ill in hearing thee! Sing to me, love! -- though death were near Thy song could make my soul forget -- Nay, nay, in pity dry that tear, All may be well, be happy yet! Let me but see that snowy arm Once more upon the dear harp lie, And I will cease to dream of harm, Will smile at fate, while thou art nigh! Give me that strain, of mournful touch, We used to love long, long ago, Before our hearts had known as much As now, alas! they bleed to know! Sweet notes! they tell of former peace, Of all, that look'd so rapturous then, Now wither'd, lost -- oh! pray thee, cease, I cannot bear those sounds again! Art thou, too, wretched? yes, thou art; I see thy tears flow fast with mine -- Come, come to this devoted heart, Tis breaking, but it still is thine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MADRIGAL: 1 by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN THE SLAVE AUCTION by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER A LAST PRAYER by HELEN MARIA HUNT FISKE JACKSON IN PROGRESS by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 71 by PHILIP SIDNEY A MINUTE by INNOKENTI FYODOROVICH ANNENSKY RECOGNITION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |