The Internet Poetry Archive

My Soul Is Dark

George Gordon, Lord Byron


My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,
And ached in sleepless silence, long;
And now 'tis doomed to know the worst,
And break at once - or yield to song.

Poetry.com.au


<   Back   |    Poetry Archive Home   |    More from this Author   >

This site and all contents (except individual poetic works) are copyright 2000-2024 Curiosity Cave Pty Ltd.
All rights reserved. Read our privacy policy here.