146
BROKEN BARBITON.
A faithful echo. It had been his friend,
True and unfailing, 'mid the darkened wrecks
Of human friendships. It had been his love,
His child, his life, and his religion.
Had talked to it at twilight's wizard hour,
The hour that now closed over it and him,
And it had answered him in tones of more
Than earthly sympathy. And he had won,
With its dear aid, the wreath so fondly deemed
The emblem of fame's immortality.
But now the dust was on its loosened chords,
That, like his own dark tresses, swept the floor,
To sound no more, save when perchance the wind,
Straying at nightfall through that ruined cot,
Should gently stir them with its breath of sighs,
To one low wail, one melancholy moan,
For him who so had loved them.
True and unfailing, 'mid the darkened wrecks
Of human friendships. It had been his love,
His child, his life, and his religion.
Had talked to it at twilight's wizard hour,
The hour that now closed over it and him,
And it had answered him in tones of more
Than earthly sympathy. And he had won,
With its dear aid, the wreath so fondly deemed
The emblem of fame's immortality.
But now the dust was on its loosened chords,
That, like his own dark tresses, swept the floor,
To sound no more, save when perchance the wind,
Straying at nightfall through that ruined cot,
Should gently stir them with its breath of sighs,
To one low wail, one melancholy moan,
For him who so had loved them.
'Twas a scene
To move the heart to tears. The world around,
The air, the earth, the sky, the ocean, seemed
To move the heart to tears. The world around,
The air, the earth, the sky, the ocean, seemed
