@3MY heart's an old Spinet with strings To laughter chiefly tuned, but some That Fate has practised hard on, dumb, They answer not whoever sings. The ghosts of half-forgotten things Will touch the keys with fingers numb, The little mocking spirits come And thrill it with their fairy wings. A jingling harmony it makes My heart, my lyre, my old Spinet, And now a memory it wakes, And now the music means "forget," And little heed the player takes Howe'er the thoughtful critic fret@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LADY TO HER GUITAR by EMILY JANE BRONTE TO ---- ----. (2) by MARY BRYAN THE CHURCHYARD by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN THREE EPISTLES TO G. LLOYD ON A PASSAGE FROM HOMER'S ILIAD: 2 by JOHN BYROM A VOICE by SAMUEL VALENTINE COLE A WESTERN VOYAGE by JAMES ELROY FLECKER |