A Shattered Lute

I touched the heart that loved me as a player Touches a lyre. Content with my poor skill, No touch save mine knew my beloved (and still I thought at times: Is there no sweet lost air

Old loves could wake in him, I cannot share?) O he alone, alone could so fulfil My thoughts in sound to the measure of my will. He is gone, and silence takes me unaware.

The songs I knew not he resumes, set free From my constraining love, alas for me! His part in our tune goes with him; my part

Is locked in me for ever; I stand as mute As one with vigorous music in his heart Whose fingers stray upon a shattered lute.