<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115256" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To a friend, on being asked for some verses</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I thought the Soul of Song had made<br> This heart of mine her sepulchre;<br> For all her golden dreams had fled,<br> And I could win no note from her.<br> <br> But when for thee thou bid'st her sing,<br> That spell dissolves her icy chain;<br> She slowly plumes her drooping wing,<br> And strikes her shattered chords again.<br> <br> For more than lifeless would she be,<br> If thou shouldst bid her wake in vain;<br> And lost her chords, if still for thee<br> She could not wake one living strain.<br> <br> For thee -- that hours of deep distress,<br> And days of gloom with kindness lit,<br> Till half I blessed the bitterness<br> That gave me thee to sweeten it.<br> <br> For thee -- that when, despairing long,<br> I said, "No friend has earth for me,"<br> Didst bid the tones die on my tongue,<br> And I could utter, "only thee."<br> <br> For thee -- that when my mother earth<br> Shall call me to her sheltering breast,<br> Of all I know wilt weep alone<br> Above my nameless place of rest.<br> <br> But see! her wings refuse to fly;<br> Her chords are harsh from silence long;<br> Alas! thy gentle sorcery<br> Hath summoned but the ghost of Song.<br> <br> She hovers o'er her living tomb,<br> She seeks once more her grave and chain,<br> As spectres haunt the midnight gloom:<br> Sweet friend, awake her not again.<br> <br> If o'er the wind harp's gentle strings<br> The threatening tempest rudely flies,<br> It does not wake more thrilling strains --<br> The chords are rent, the music dies.<br> <br> Thus is my harp, thus is my song --<br> I woo in vain its sweetness fled,<br> The storms have swept the chords too long,<br> The music of my soul is dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Lynch+Botta">Anne Lynch Botta</a> from <i>Poems</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115256" data-title="To a friend, on being asked for some verses de Anne Lynch Botta" data-description="I thought the Soul of Song had made/ This heart of mine her sepulchre;/ For all her golden dreams had fled,/ And I could win no note from her./ / But when for thee thou bid'st her sing,/ That spell dissolves her icy chain;/ She slowly plumes he..."></div> </div> </div>

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