Monday, November 14, 2011

Bloom of the Day

The Charlatan

My gentle harp once more I waken
The sweetness of thy slumbering strain;
In tears our last farewell was taken,
And now in tears we meet again.
No light of joy has o’er thee broken,
But – like those harps, whose heavenly skill
Of slavery, dark as thine, has spoken
Thou hangs upon willows still.