A TINY rift within the lute May sometimes make the music mute! By slow degrees, the rift grows wide, By slow degrees, the tender tide -- Harmonious once -- of loving thought Becomes with harsher measures fraught, Until the heart's Arcadian breath Lapses thro' discord into death! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST BUCCANEER by CHARLES KINGSLEY THE KISS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR SONNET: 151 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE A BIT OF MULL by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER WOO NOT THE WORLD by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II TO DR. PRIESTLEY. DEC. 29, 1792 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: THE TWO VOICES by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |