Classic Poem

The broken lyre is lying at thy feet,
All hushed and mute the rich and vibrant strings —
Oh! Love disconsolate, with drooping wings,
Must thou forego the music once so sweet?
Yet that deep note, forever incomplete,
Its haunting melody through memory sings, —
Lost, unfulfilled, triumphant still it rings
Once perfect chord, soon silent, full but fleet!
My broken heart lies crushed within thy hand,
Dumb as the severed lyre's harmony,
No more a magnet to thy magic wand,
It lies inert — Lean, lowlier, Love! and see
The hidden symbol by thy sad wings fanned —
Death is Love's hostage — Immortality.