Classic Poem

I.

Whene'er I touch my mandolin,
I weep, I know not why;
Tears fleetly rise, and sighs begin
To echo sigh for sigh.
As on its chords I trembling gaze,
I think the years how long,
Since fading childhood's happy days,
I've wak'd its powers of song.

II.

Adieu! Adieu! my mandolin,
Your chords I'll wake no more;
Oh not a saint again should win
My hand your bright strings o'er:
For whensoe'er, sweet mandolin,
To sweep thy chords I try,
Tears fleetly rise, and sighs begin
To echo sigh for sigh.