SAY, was it, my harp, the invisible wing Of a spirit that pass'd o'er thy musical string? And comes it in love, with its light, airy hand, To play me a song from the heavenly land? Though chill is the wind, and fitful it blows, Yet sweet as in summer thy music still flows; But, when rages the blast, and contending winds roar, In silence you wait till the tempest is o'er. And thus, like thy strings, is the virtuous mind, Harmonious e'en in adversity's wind; But, when by the tempests of life it is driven, It remembers, in silence, the storm is from Heaven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AURORA by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) TO DR. AIKIN ON HIS COMPLAINING THAT SHE NEGLECTED HIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD A FARM NEAR ZILLEBEKE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN ON THE LOSS OF PROFESSOR FISHER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD FIFTY YEARS SPENT by MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT TO AN ELF ON A BUTTERCUP by PHOEBE CARY |