Lines (Botta)

For works with similar titles, see Lines.

        Sing me that song again,
            That wild, impassioned lay;
        The tumult of my throbbing brain
            Thy voice shall charm away.
        Pour that harmonious flood
            Upon my thirsting ear;
        'Twill cool the fever of my blood
            Those silvery notes to hear.
        Sing me that mournful song,
            That song of love and woe,
        That these full fountains, closed so long,
            Once more may overflow.
        And while those gentle strings
            Thy fairy hand sweeps o'er,
        Upon thy music's trembling wings
            My fainting soul shall soar.

This work was published before January 1, 1926, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.