Hush, sweet Lute, thy songs remind me
Of past joys, now turned to pain;
Of ties that long have ceased to bind me,
But whose burning marks remain.
In each tone, some echo falleth
On my ear of joys gone by;
Every note some dream recalleth
Of bright hopes but born to die.
Yet, sweet Lute, though pain it bring me,
Once more let thy numbers thrill;
Tho' death were in the strain they sing me,
I must woo its anguish still.
Since no time can e'er recover
Love's sweet light when once 'tis set,--
Better to weep such pleasures over,
Than smile o'er any left us yet.
Hush, Sweet Lute
Thomas Moore
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Poem topics: death, dream, light, smile, time, long, bright, bring, remain, anguish, love, pain, I love you, sweet, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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