'Tis well to wake the theme of love When chords of wild ecstatic fire Fling from the harp, and ample prove The soul as joyous as the lyre. Such theme is blissful when the heart Warms with the precious name we pour; When our deep pulses glow and start Before the idol we adore. Sing ye, whose doating eyes behold, Whose ears can drink the dear one's tone, Whose hands may press, whose arms may fold, The prized, the beautiful, thine own. But, should the ardent hopes of youth Have cherished dreams that darkly fled; Should passion, purity, and truth, Live on, despairing o'er the dead; Should we have heard some sweet voice hushed, Breathing our name in latest vow; Should our fast heavy tears have gushed Above a cold, yet worshipped brow; Oh! say, then can the minstrel choose The themes that gods and mortals praise? No, no; the spirit will refuse, And sadly shun such raptured lays. For who can bear to touch the string That yields but anguish in its strain; Whose lightest notes have power to wring The keenest pangs from breast and brain? "Sing ye of love in words that burn," Is what full many a lip will ask; But love the dead, and ye will learn Such bidding is no gentle task. Oh! pause in mercy, ere ye blame The one who lends not love his lyre; That which ye deem ethereal flame May be to him a torture pyre. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE GHOST by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY SPANISH WINGS: A LEAF FROM A LOG BOOK by H. BABCOCK THE GHOSTS' MOONSHINE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES SILVIO'S COMPLAINT: A SONG, TO A FINE SCOTCH TUNE by APHRA BEHN THE FOREIGN SAILOR by WILLIAM ROSE BENET ASPIRATIONS: 8 by MATHILDE BLIND |