Image Me a Poem 4
Music soothes, they say,
but have they played for the beasts and won?
Music's way is gay,
but pray, set aside your notes for a day.
There isn't time to play,
the clouds are rolling home.
The sun is deaf; you will not win
or slow its burning fate.
Don't leave me lonely,
the strings of my heart untouched,
the notes of my body unsounding.
There is a silent song,
the ear will never hear.
Come, let me sing it to you,
and leave your lyre here.
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