Présentation de l'éditeur
The harpo er which my fingers used to stray, And wake its ready strings to varied tones Now gay and now suppressed and trembling moans. The years have come and gone, in rapid flight, And left me gray of hair, and dim of sight; My harp, untouched, forgotten, long has lain, All hush dits notes to songs of joy or pain. Today, as recollection backward turned, And scenes, long past, within my memory burned, My harp, with dust and cobwebs cover do er, Persistent claimed my consciousness once more.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)
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