From The Gem 1830, page 224:—Publisher - Shepherd and Sutton, London
THE LUTE.
Wake not again, thou sweet-voiced lute!
Better for me that thy chords were mute,
Than thus to recall thoughts long since fled,
And bring to my mem'ry the false and the dead.
They remind me of one who shared with me
The short-lived sunlight of infancy;
For when the young rose of her cheek grew pale,
And health was departed, she loved thy wail;
And I have heard thy murmurs sweep
O'er the flowers that smile round her last cold sleep.
And thou recallest a dark-eyed maid,
With forehead of snow and raven braid,
The light of my love-dream,—one who oft
Would answer in song to thy breathing soft;
One who could love, and her love forget—
O waken not, lute, that wild regret!
Better thou ever shouldst silent be,
Than renew such memories of sadness to me.
