As one who plays a lovingly-held lyre Deep in the night, till dreams his lids surprise, When his friend softly pillows him and tries To free the fingers from the close-clasped wire That, smitten, sounds alarm to rouse its sire; So gently loose my love from one that plies Sweet music for my soul -- from memories, -- Vain, backward yearnings when I ought aspire. Not as a frightened mother flings afar A poisonous weed her little child grasped tight; But as a mother takes her daughter's hands That clasp a husband's neck, he pledged for war, -- So loosen love from that stern self must fight, Aye, fight and conquer yet in distant lands. |