THAT strain again? It seems to tell Of something like a joy departed; I love its mourning accents well, Like voice of one, ah! broken-hearted. That note that pensive dies away, And can each answering thrill awaken, It sadly, wildly, seems to say, Thy meek heart mourns its truth forsaken. Or there was one who never more Shall meet thee with the looks of gladness, When all of happier life was o'er, When first began thy night of sadness. Sweet mourner, cease that melting strain, Too well it suits the grave's cold slumbers; Too well -- the heart that loved in vain Breathes, lives, and weeps in those wild numbers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EUROPE A PROPHECY by WILLIAM BLAKE THE IDLERS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN EPITAPH FOR JOSEPH BLACKETT, LATE POET AND SHOEMAKER by GEORGE GORDON BYRON LINES ON THE CAMP HILL NEAR HASTINGS by THOMAS CAMPBELL MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: SONG (2) by THOMAS CAMPION |