Farewell To My Harp

Farewell my rude Harp and my still ruder Lyre! For season your tones may not fall on my ear; At the bench will hard labor repress rhyming fire, And Fact over Fancy triumphant appear.

Yet I will remember the exquisite pleasure For full thirty years freely rendered by you; How oft in that time you have proved a rich treasure-- Still constant abiding and evermore true.

Again and again bring afresh to my mind. How in youth your wild minstrelsy ravished my soul Till I became daily to musings inclined, And strong, gushing impulse that scarce brooked control.

I oft will recall how you chased away sadness, As sore family tumbles my heart did affright When a fond, faithful partner, whose presence was gladness Was reft from my side--turning day into night!

Nor forget soon the dirges you poured o'er the tomb Enclosing both her and our infant so dear; Whose soul-stirring notes dissipated my gloom, And since have refreshed me through many a year.

Ah, no! those sweet memories, fresh in me springing, Shall nerve to new efforts in God's holy cause; And hearing within me your melodies ringing, I'll steadfastly aim at observing His Laws.

THE END.