My harp has one unchanging theme, One strain that still comes o'er Its languid chord, as ' t were a dream Of joy that ' s now no more. In vain I try, with livelier air, To wake the breathing string; That voice of other times is there, And saddens all I sing. Breathe on, breathe on, thou languid strain, Henceforth be all my own; Tho' thou art oft so full of pain Few hearts can bear thy tone. Yet oft thou ' rt sweet, as if the sigh, The breath that Pleasure's wings Gave out, when last they wantoned by, Were still upon thy strings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RUINED MAID by THOMAS HARDY ASTRONOMY by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE SUPLIANTS: IO. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS AN EPISTLE TO CURIO by MARK AKENSIDE ORLANDO FURIOSO: CANTO 10. by LUDOVICO (LODOVICO) ARIOSTO LINES TO MR. WYNCH ON HIS FORTH-FIFTH BIRTHDAY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |