Poems (Nealds)/Farewell to the Lyre

by Adeline Martha Nealds

FAREWELL TO THE LYRE.

Not yet again in tuneful numbers,
 Shall I, sweet lyre, awake thy strings;
For worldly care, alas! encumbers
 The lightness of my spirit's wings.

Yes, thou hast sooth'd my hour of sorrow,
 And brighten'd ev'n my brightest day,
For I from thee could ever borrow
 A balm to chase my griefs away.

But, gentle lyre, though woes oppress me,
 Though sorrowing thoughts my peace destroy,
Still my sad heart shall ever bless thee,
 And owe to thee its gleam of joy.

And though awhile by me forsaken,
 Thou must in silence sleep, my lyre,
I'll strive again thy chords to waken,
 With all their bright poetic fire.

And though, dear lyre, we now must sever,
 Yet in Medina's lovely bow'rs
Again my fingers shall endeavour
 To wreathe thy strings with fancy's flow'rs.

Now, gentle lyre, in tears of sadness,
 I quit thy soul enchanting spell,
With hope to meet again in gladness,
 Sweet lyre of beauty, fare thee well!