 | The Vale of Arden and Other Poems |  |
41
THE SILENT HARP
Poor harp, how desolate!—The loving hand,That wind-like wandered o'er thy tremulous strings,
Culling sweet sheaves of sound or whisperings
Æolian, at the Master's mute command
Drops lifeless. In that unresponsive land
What music He from earthly sufferings
Evoketh and the stress of mortal things,
Wistful we seek but may not understand.
Yonder may dwell continual peace, but here
All peace begetteth and is born of strife,
And every smile is sister to a tear;
Death only can the missing note supply
That shall resolve the discord of this life;
Silence alone is perfect harmony.
| The Vale of Arden and Other Poems | |