 | Forest leaves |  |
TO AN ÆOLEAN.
Thou'rt like my heart—thou shivering string
Of wild and plaintive tone;
Thrill'd by the slightest zephyr's wing,
That over thee is thrown.
Of wild and plaintive tone;
Thrill'd by the slightest zephyr's wing,
That over thee is thrown.
Replying with melodious wail
To every passing sigh;
And pouring to the fitful gale
Wild bursts of harmony.
To every passing sigh;
And pouring to the fitful gale
Wild bursts of harmony.
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Still, by the tempest's torturing power
Thy loftiest notes are rung,
And in the stormy midnight hour,
Thy holiest hymns are sung.
Thy loftiest notes are rung,
And in the stormy midnight hour,
Thy holiest hymns are sung.
Thou'rt like my heart, thou trembling string
That lov'st the gentle breeze,—
Yet yieldest to the tempest king
Thy loftiest melodies.
That lov'st the gentle breeze,—
Yet yieldest to the tempest king
Thy loftiest melodies.
| Forest leaves | |