| Poems by Women |
"MY HEART IS A LUTE"
Alas, that my heart is a lute,
Whereon you have learned to play!
For a
many years it was mute,
Until one summer's day
You took it, and touched
it, and made it thrill,
And it thrills and throbs, and quivers still!
I had known you, dear, so long!
Yet my heart did not tell me why
It
should burst one morn into song,
And wake to new life with a cry,
Like a
babe that sees the light of the sun,
And for whom this great world has just
begun.
Your lute is enshrined, cased in,
Kept close with love's magic key,
So
no hand but yours can win
And wake it to minstrelsy;
Yet leave it not
silent too long, nor alone,
Lest the strings should break, and the music be
done.
Anne Barnard [1750-1825]
From: Stevenson, Burton Egbert.
The Home Book of Verse.
This poet:
[Author index]
This collection assembled by Jone Johnson Lewis.
Collection © 1999-2002 Jone Johnson Lewis.
Citing poems from these pages:
| Author. "Poem Title." Women's History: Poems by Women. Jone Johnson Lewis, editor. URL: (date of logon) |
