Classic Poem

I.

Give me the Harp — but every chord
That's mournful cast away;
My memory alone is stor'd
With sonnets light and gay;
Not such as Love incessant leaves
Within his spell-fraught bowers,
But such as sparkling Pleasure weaves
With Fancy's lightest flowers.
Then give the Harp — but pr'ythee take
The mournful chord away,
And notes of joy I'll swiftly wake,
And sonnets light and gay.

II.

If life's bright dawn was only made
To be obscur'd with tears,
Then keep the chord — its friendly shade
Will darken future years.
O'er fatal Love in secret weep,
Let Hope thy mistress be;
Do what you will — but only keep
Thy gloomy Harp from me.
Then give, &c.