III

O violin!--Cease, cease within

My soul, O haunting violin!

In vain, in vain, you bring again

Back from the past the blissful pain

Of all the love then spoken;

When on my breast, at happy rest,

A sunny while her head was pressed--

Peace, peace to these wild memories!

For, like my heart naught remedies,

Her violin lies broken.

Shapes and Shadows · 第 45 / 59 题