Sing, and to you! No — no — with one note jarred
The harmony of life's long chord is broken,
Your words were light and by light lips were spoken,
And yet the music that you loved is marred.
One string, my friend, is dumb beneath your hand,
Strike and it throbs and vibrates at your will.
Falters upon the verge of sound, and still
Falls back as sea waves shattered on the strand.
Touch it no more, for you shall not regain
The sweet lost tone. Take what is left, or let
Life's music sleep to death. Let us forget
The perfect melody we seek in vain:
And yet perchance, some day before we die,
As half in dreams we hear the night wind sweep
Around our windows, when we fain would sleep,
Laden with one long sobbing moaning cry,
One faint, far tone will waken, and will rise
Above the great wave voice of mortal pain;
Hand will touch hand and lips touch lips again,
As in the darkness it recedes and dies;
Or lingering in the summer evening glow,
Then, when the passion of the crimson west
Burning like some great heart that cannot rest,
Stains as with blood the waters as they flow,
Some old forgotten tones may rise and wake
Our dying youth, and set our hearts aflame
With their old sweetness, — to our lips the name
Of love steal softly for the old love's sake.
