AT times, when, with an anguish all too keen, The violin doth tensely tell of grief, Tugging at heart-strings till the tale, I ween, Is over-cruel, calls for some relief: I joy to hear, like cooings of lost doves, The grave viola plaining of old loves. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THREE SILENCES IN THAILAND by KAREN SWENSON DEJECTION: AN ODE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE GEATE A-VALLEN TO by WILLIAM BARNES URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THIS STORY MORALIZED by WILLIAM BASSE QUATORZAINS: 1. TO PERFUME by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE GARDEN WHERE THERE IS NO WINTER by LOUIS JAMES BLOCK |