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James Russell Lowell - To A Lady Playing The Cithern
Work rating: Low

So dreamy-soft the notes, so far away
They seem to fall, the horns of Oberon
Blow their faint Hunt`s-up from the good-time gone;
Or, on a morning of long-withered May,
Larks tinkle unseen o`er Claudian arches gray,
That Romeward crawl from Dreamland; and anon
My fancy flings her cloak of Darkness on,
To vanish from the dungeon of To-day.
In happier times and scenes I seem to be,
And, as her fingers flutter o`er the strings,
The days return when I was young as she,
And my fledged thoughts began to feel their wings
With all Heaven`s blue before them: Memory
Or Music is it such enchantment sings?
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