| A Shattered Lute |
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I touched the heart that loved me as a player
Touches a lyre. Content with my poor skill,
No touch save mine knew my beloved (and still
I thought at times: Is there no sweet lost air
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Old loves could wake in him, I cannot share?).
O he alone, alone could so fulfil
My thoughts in sound to the measure of my will.
He is gone, and silence takes me unaware.
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The songs I knew not he resumes, set free
From my constraining love, alas for me!
His part in our tune goes with him; my part
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Is locked in me for ever; I stand as mute
As one with vigorous music in his heart
Whose fingers stray upon a shattered lute.
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