(_A long way after Tennyson._)
Break, break, break,
O voice on that clear top C!
And I would that my throat could utter
High notes as they used to be.
O well for old BUNDLECOOP'S boy
That he still shouts his full round A!
O well for that tow-headed lad
That he sings in his old clear way.
And the anthems still go on
With boy-trebles sharp and shrill;
But O for _my_ "compass," so high and grand,
And the voice that I _used_ to trill!
Break, break, break,
Like a creaky old gate, top C!
But the high treble notes of a voice that is cracked,
Will never come back to me!
* * * * *