The poems of John G. C. Brainard A new and authentic collection, with an original memoir of his life |
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TO A YOUNG FRIEND LEARNING TO PLAY THE FLUTE. |
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 | The poems of John G. C. Brainard |  |
TO A YOUNG FRIEND LEARNING TO PLAY THE FLUTE.
There's a wild harp, which unconfined by ruleOf science, varies with the varying air,
And sympathizes with the free-born wind;
Swelling, whene'er the tempest swells, or sad
When the soft western-breeze in moans goes down,
And sighs, and dies away. 'T is sweet to mark
Its tone, and listen in some musing mood
To its strange cadence. Be your music such,
And let it die at sundown if you please.
| The poems of John G. C. Brainard | |