Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/84

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—I cannot sing as I have sung; My heart is changed, my lute unstrung. Once said I that my early chords Were vow'd to love or sorrow's words: But love has like an odour past, Or echo, all too sweet to last; And sorrow now holds lonely sway O'er my young heart, and lute, and lay. Be it for those whose unwaked youth Believes that hope and love are sooth— The loved, the happy—let them dream This meeting by the forest stream. —No more they parted till the night Call'd on her starry host for light, And that bright lyre arose on high With its fair watchers to their sky.