Classic Poem

Her heart is like a harp whose strings
At will are touched alike by all:
Her heart is like a bird that sings
In answer to each fowler's call.
That harp! — has it one secret tone
Reserved for master hands alone?
That bird! has it one soulful note
Which only toward its mate will float?

Let it not wile thy soul away,
That harp, with its beguiling touch;
Let not that bird's bewildering lay
Thrill through thy bosom over-much:
They'll cheat thine eyes of sleep to-night,
Yet find thee dreaming with the light
With heart and brain all idly stirred —
The music of that harp and bird!