WHEN to her lute Corinna sings, Her voice revives the leaden strings, And doth in highest notes appear, As any challenged echo clear; But when she doth of mourning speak, Even with her sighs the strings do break. And as her lute doth live or die, Led by her passion, so must I, For when of pleasure she doth sing, My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring, But if she doth of sorrow speak, Even from my heart the strings do break. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIVE BLINDLY; SONNET by TRUMBULL STICKNEY THE LAY OF SAINT MEDARD; A LEGEND OF AFRIC by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE GIANTESS by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE PASTURE POND by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 21 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE STORM by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |