 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
TO A LONG-SILENT SISTER OF SONG.
Where art thou, wood-dove of Hesperian climes,The sweetest minstrel of our unshorn bowers?
In dreams, methinks, I faintly hear at times
An echo of thy silver-sounding rhymes;
Alas! that blight should fall on fairest flowers,
Eternal silence on angelic lips;
That tender, starry eyes should know eclipse,
And mourning love breathe farewell to the hours!
Speak! has the grave closed on thee evermore,
Daughter of Music?—hath thy golden lute,
With dust upon its broken strings, grown mute;
Thy fancy, rainbow-hued, forgot to soar?
To hush thy warbling is a grievous wrong—
Come back! come back to sunlight and to song!
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |