Page:Late lyrics and earlier, with many other verses (IA latelyricsearlie00hardiala).pdf/171



HY do you sit, O pale thin man, At the end of the room By that harpsichord, built on the quaint old plan? —It is cold as a tomb, And there's not a spark within the grate; And the jingling wires Are as vain desires That have lagged too late."

"Why do I? Alas, far times ago A woman lyred here In the evenfall; one who fain did so From year to year; And, in loneliness bending wistfully, Would wake each note In sick sad rote, None to listen or see!