Neglected now is the old guitar <br />And moldering into decay; <br />Fretted with many a rift and scar <br />That the dull dust hides away, <br />While the spider spins a silver star <br />In its silent lips to-day. <br /> <br />The keys hold only nerveless strings-- <br />The sinews of brave old airs <br />Are pulseless now; and the scarf that clings <br />So closely here declares <br />A sad regret in its ravelings <br />And the faded hue it wears. <br /> <br />But the old guitar, with a lenient grace, <br />Has cherished a smile for me; <br />And its features hint of a fairer face <br />That comes with a memory <br />Of a flower-and-perfume-haunted place <br />And a moonlit balcony. <br /> <br />Music sweeter than words confess, <br />Or the minstrel's powers invent, <br />Thrilled here once at the light caress <br />Of the fairy hands that lent <br />This excuse for the kiss I press <br />On the dear old instrument. <br /> <br />The rose of pearl with the jeweled stem <br />Still blooms; and the tiny sets <br />In the circle all are here; the gem <br />In the keys, and the silver frets; <br />But the dainty fingers that danced o'er them-- <br />Alas for the heart's regrets!-- <br /> <br />Alas for the loosened strings to-day, <br />And the wounds of rift and scar <br />On a worn old heart, with its roundelay <br />Enthralled with a stronger bar <br />That Fate weaves on, through a dull decay <br />Like that of the old guitar!<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-guitar/
