| Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875. |
| |
| W. Drummond |
| |
| XXXVIII. To His Lute |
| |
| MY lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow | |
| With thy green mother in some shady grove, | |
| When immelodious winds but made thee move, | |
| And birds their ramage did on thee bestow. | |
| |
| Since that dear Voice which did thy sounds approve, | 5 |
| Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow, | |
| Is reft from Earth to tune those spheres above, | |
| What art thou but a harbinger of woe? | |
| |
| Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more, | |
| But orphans' wailings to the fainting ear; | 10 |
| Each stroke a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear; | |
| For which be silent as in woods before: | |
| |
| Or if that any hand to touch thee deign, | |
| Like widow'd turtle, still her loss complain. | |
| |
|
|
