Why hang’st thou lonely on yon withered bough?
Unstrung for ever, must thou there remain;
Thy music once was sweet — who hears it now?
Why doth the breeze sigh over thee in vain?
Silence hath bound thee with her fatal chain;
Neglected, mute, and desolate art thou,
Like ruined monument on desert plain:
O! many a hand more worthy far than mine
Once thy harmonious chords to sweetness gave,
And many a wreath for them did Fame entwine
Of flowers still blooming on the minstrel’s grave:
Those hands are cold — but if thy notes divine
May be by mortal wakened once again,
Harp of my country, let me strike the strain!
(Henry Louis Vivian Derozio)
More Poetry from Henry Louis Vivian Derozio:
Henry Louis Vivian Derozio Poems based on Topics: Flowers, Countries, Silence- A Walk By Moonlight (Henry Louis Vivian Derozio Poems)
- Song Of The Hindustanee Minstrel (Henry Louis Vivian Derozio Poems)
- Going Into Darkness (Henry Louis Vivian Derozio Poems)
- To My Native Land (Henry Louis Vivian Derozio Poems)