TO MISS AUGUSTA COWELL. <br />[To whom I owe the popularity of some of my favourite ballads.] <br /> <br />WHEN thy light fingers touch th' obedient chords, <br />Which, with a gentle murmur, low respond, <br />Waiting the measure of the coming words <br />From that sweet voice, so plaintive, sad, and fond,-- <br />Say does some wingéd Ariel, hovering near, <br />Teach thee his island music note for note, <br />That thou may'st copy with an echo clear <br />Th' enchanted symphonies that round thee float? <br />Or do all Melodies, whilst thou art playing, <br />(Each with the offering of some chorded sound,) <br />On the low slanting sunbeam earthward straying, <br />Like meek subservient spirits wander round; <br />In Harmony's dim language asking thee <br />Which of them, for the hour, shall thy attendant be?<br /><br />Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xv-6/
