Violin

Where sleeps upon the shelf his violin that in past with mournful tone he plucked who woo'd a maiden fair and shaped within the aria upon which ears had wanton supped For now that hollow wood become an empty thing and days her strings had sang so lovingly its heart now dead because of loss of dream and want of fingers who play now grudgingly Silent now the bow and string so smoothly licked and caught the graceful tones upon her played time did take its toll on misery sipped where in past her elations joys has stayed Gone now that audience who was his care buried in the tomb with their mosses deep the caress of the music they did share where both now lay in their closets sleep Twas grievous chords that last upon her sing whose chorus stroked reception to the ground since that place could not himself to bring or bless that happy wood her joyful sound COPYRIGHT © 2010 C Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC