 | Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne |  |
XXVIII.
THE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE.
A tiny rift within the luteMay sometimes make the music mute!
By slow degrees, the rift grows wide,
By slow degrees, the tender tide—
Harmonious once—of loving thought
Becomes with harsher measures fraught,
Until the heart's Arcadian breath
Lapses thro' discord into death!
| Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne | |