AH, deem not when thy minstrel tunes <br /> His harp to hours and glories vanished, <br />His star of stars, his moon of moons, <br /> Can ever from his heart be banish'd. <br /> <br />Each tune he wakes, each note that takes <br /> And charms the heart, Love's arrow <br /> woundeth, <br />But flows from strings she only rings, <br /> And from a Deep, she only soundeth.<br /><br />Joseph Skipsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-minstrel-3/
