Classic Poem

If this now silent harp could wake,
How pure, how strong, how true
The tender strain its chords would make
Of love and grief for you!
But, like my heart, though faithful long,
By you cast forth to pain,
This hushed and humbled voice of song
Must never stir again.

Yet, haply, when your fancy strays
O'er unregarded things,
And half in dream your gentle gaze
Falls on its shattered strings,
Some loving impulse may endear
Your memories of the past,
And if for me you shed one tear
I think 'twould wake at last:

Wake with a note so glad, so clear,
So lovely, so complete,
That birds on wing would pause to hear
Its music wild and sweet;
And you would know,—alas! too late,—
How tender and how true
Is this fond heart, that hugs its fate,
To die for love and you.