THE BROKEN HARP.
155
We wedded—words grow weak and faint To color scenes so wildly bright;Dark pictures, art can always paint,— Who can portray a ray of light?But swiftly fled the dream of joy, And sad is its deserted throne;Fate came, alas! to blight—destroy;— We parted—I was left alone.
Yes, parted, that my love might lay Devotion on his country's shrine;While troubled shadows darkly play Around this lonely heart of mine.To think of moments past and bright But makes the sadness deeper now;'T is like the morning's robe of light Beside the midnight's sable brow.Then wonder not that I no more My harp in rapture wildly sweep;The joy that woke its notes before Now slumbers in a dreamless sleep.
