Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | December 8, 2008

POEM OF THE DAY: The Harp of India

by Henry Louis Vivian Derozio (1809 – 1831).

 

The Harp of India

 

Why hang’st thou lonely on yon withered bough?

Unstrung for ever, must thou there remain;

Thy music once was sweet — who hears it now?

Why doth the breeze sigh over thee in vain?

Silence hath bound thee with her fatal chain;                              5

Neglected, mute, and desolate art thou,

Like ruined monument on desert plain:

O! many a hand more worthy far than mine

Once thy harmonious chords to sweetness gave,

And many a wreath for them did Fame entwine                        10

Of flowers still blooming on the minstrel’s grave:

Those hands are cold — but if thy notes divine

May be by mortal wakened once again,

Harp of my country, let me strike the strain!

 

Notes:

https://tspace.library.utoronto.ca/html/1807/4350/poet392.html

http://www.deroziomemorialcollege.com/aboutderozio.html


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: