02.03.2008, 14:44
To a lady, on her singing a sweet old air
Oh! that a tone were lasting as a thought,
A feeling joy, eternal as a truth!
Then were my spirit charm'd to endless youth,
All time enrich'd with what a moment brought.
That one sweet note, so sweet itself, and fraught
With all the warbled sweetness of the stream
Of rippling sound, continuous as a dream -
A dream of song, that waking turns to nought.
I cannot find it, I cannot resume
The thrilling calm, the gladness so intense,
So simple, perfect, neither soul nor sense
For hope had need, for hoarding thought had room:
Yet shall the moral heart for aye retain
The once-seen songstress, and the once-heard strain.
Oh! that a tone were lasting as a thought,
A feeling joy, eternal as a truth!
Then were my spirit charm'd to endless youth,
All time enrich'd with what a moment brought.
That one sweet note, so sweet itself, and fraught
With all the warbled sweetness of the stream
Of rippling sound, continuous as a dream -
A dream of song, that waking turns to nought.
I cannot find it, I cannot resume
The thrilling calm, the gladness so intense,
So simple, perfect, neither soul nor sense
For hope had need, for hoarding thought had room:
Yet shall the moral heart for aye retain
The once-seen songstress, and the once-heard strain.