Poems (Fields)/Song (There's many a magic spell)
For works with similar titles, see Song.
SONG.
All the splendid furniture of his late residence had been sold except hiswife's Harp. That, he said, was too closely associated with the ideaof herself; it belonged to the little story of their loves; for, some of thesweetest moments of their courtship were those when he had leaned overthat instrument, and listened to the melting tones of her voice.Irving's Sketch Book.
There's many a magic spell:Leave that untouched,—the strain it brings This heart remembers well.
Let that remain!—all else beside Go scatter to the wind!The chords that won my home a bride No other home shall find.
It hath a power, though all unstrung It lies neglected now;And from her hands 't will ne'er be wrung, Till death these limbs shall bow!
It hath no price since that sweet hour She tuned it first, and playedLove's evening hymn with the bower Her youthful fingers made.
A spirit like the summer's night Hangs o'er that cherished lyre,And whispers of the calm moonlight Are trembling from the wire;
Still on my ear her young voice falls, Still floats that melody,—On each loved haunt its music calls,— Go! leave that harp and me.