 | A collection of poems on various subjects |  |
19
THE HEART STRINGS.
The heart's a lyre of many strings,
Whose various cadence fate doth move,
As blithe, or sad the theme she sings
The sweetest string doth wake to love.
Whose various cadence fate doth move,
As blithe, or sad the theme she sings
The sweetest string doth wake to love.
And when, in kind and gentle soul,
She touches, soft, that tuneful one;
There's not a string among the whole
But vibrates with a magic tone.
She touches, soft, that tuneful one;
There's not a string among the whole
But vibrates with a magic tone.
The very frame partakes the sound,
And vies with its melodious tongue;
And ev'ry living thing around,
Seems mov'd to rapture and to song.
And vies with its melodious tongue;
And ev'ry living thing around,
Seems mov'd to rapture and to song.
20
But, if with harsh and sullen mood,
That sweet and tender string she takes,
And touches oft with finger rude,
Until the warbler's strain'd, or breaks.
That sweet and tender string she takes,
And touches oft with finger rude,
Until the warbler's strain'd, or breaks.
There's not a string in all the range
Doth vibrate with accordant tone,
But all's a sad and rueful change—
The music of the heart is gone!
Doth vibrate with accordant tone,
But all's a sad and rueful change—
The music of the heart is gone!
| A collection of poems on various subjects | |