Classic Poem

Strike, strike the note of sorrow,
That late so moved me!
My sinking heart would borrow,
From sounds so passing sweet,
Fond moments once so fleet
Beside the youth who loved me.

O, set the music flowing!
My soul for ever
Could dwell on words so glowing,
On sounds so soft and clear,
To all my heart so dear,
They can be silent never.

Give me the lute,—the lute,
For I would ring it!
O, breathe that Spartan flute,
And wake my languid soul,
Till, loosed from earth's control,
Heaven's fire shall wing it!

No! touch the chord of feeling,
And lightly wake it!
And as I hear, come stealing
From out my bleeding heart
Tears, such as woes impart:—
Be still, or else ye break it.