Poems (Davidson)/To a Lady whose Singing resembled that of an Absent Sister

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4596790Poems — To a Lady whose Singing resembled that of an Absent SisterLucretia Maria Davidson
TO A LADY, WHOSE SINGING RESEMBLED THAT OF AN ABSENT SISTER.
O! touch the chord yet once again,
Nor chide me, though I weep the while;
Believe me, that deep seraph strain
Bore with it memory's moonlight smile.

It murmured of an absent friend;
The voice, the air, 'twas all her own;
And hers those wild, sweet notes which blend
In one mild, murmuring, touching tone.

And days and months have darkly passed,
Since last I listened to her lay;
And Sorrow's cloud its shade hath cast,
Since then, across my weary way.

Yet still the strain comes sweet and clear,
Like seraph-whispers, lightly breathed;
Hush, busy memory, Sorrow's tear
Will blight the garland thou hast wreathed.

'Tis sweet, though sad—yes, I will stay,
I cannot tear myself away.

I thank thee, lady, for the strain;
The tempest of my soul is still;
Then touch the chord yet once again,
For thou canst calm the storm at will!