MY HARP OF SIGHS.
I
Oh, no! I am not what I was, when last I sung to thee;
The playful song, that won thy smile, is not the song for me:
My harp of smiles upon the earth unstrung and broken lies;
And well I know that one so young will scorn my harp of sighs.
II
I have no song of youth and hope, that does not close in care;
I have no tale of woman's love, that ends not in despair:
I only breathe the name of joy, to tell how soon it dies;
I only sing the songs that suit this dear, dear harp of sighs!
III
I could not, if I would, be gay, for when I touch the chords,
I throw a shade of sadness o'er the melody, and words:
Grief through her darken'd glass discerns no sunshine in the skies,
The voice must mourn that mingles with thy notes,—my harp of sighs!