FAREWELL TO MY HARP

Farewell my rude Harp and my still ruder Lyre!

For season your tones may not fall on my ear;

At the bench will hard labor repress rhyming fire,

And Fact over Fancy triumphant appear.

Yet I will remember the exquisite pleasure

For full thirty years freely rendered by you;

How oft in that time you have proved a rich treasure —

Still constant abiding and evermore true.

Again and again bring afresh to my mind.

How in youth your wild minstrelsy ravished my soul

Till I became daily to musings inclined,

And strong, gushing impulse that scarce brooked control.

I oft will recall how you chased away sadness,

As sore family tumbles my heart did affright

When a fond, faithful partner, whose presence was gladness

Was reft from my side — turning day into night!

Nor forget soon the dirges you poured o'er the tomb

Enclosing both her and our infant so dear;

Whose soul-stirring notes dissipated my gloom,

And since have refreshed me through many a year.

Ah, no! those sweet memories, fresh in me springing,

Shall nerve to new efforts in God's holy cause;

And hearing within me your melodies ringing,

I'll steadfastly aim at observing His Laws.