With silver strings my harp is strung And in an inner crypt is hung So other fingers may not stroke Its silver strings, its frame of oak; No other hear its song.. once sung: The wild sweet songs its silver tongue Once wildly to the wooing flung, With silver strings That lisped with joy ... with pain was wrung; With ecstacy that glows among The leaping flames, the fumes that choke, The lurid lights, the acrid smoke, That veiled the night whose pearls are slung On silver wings! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE BEAR by EDITH SITWELL THE GREAT SAINT BERNARD by SAMUEL ROGERS THE LAST CAESAR, 1851-1870 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SONG FOR THE NEWBORN by MARY HUNTER AUSTIN INVITES POETS AND HISTORIANS TO WRITE IN CYNTHIA'S PRAISE by PHILIP AYRES |