Excerpt from Songs and Sonnets, and Other Poems

Songs And Hymns.

The Old Violin.

Though tuneless, stringless, it lies

there in dust,

Like some great thought on a forgotten

page;

The soul of music cannot fade or rust -

The voice within it stronger grows with

age;

Its strings and bow are only trifling things -

A master-touch! - its sweet soul wakes and

sings.

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