Dear Harp of my Country in darkness, I found thee
The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long;
When, proudly, my own Island Harp! I unbound thee
And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song!
The warm lay of love and the light tone of gladness
Have wakened thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill;
But so oft has thou echo'd the deep sigh of sadness
That e'en in thy mirth it will steal from thee still
Dear Harp of my Country, farewell to thy numbers
This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine;
Go, sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers
Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine
If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover
Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone;
I was but as the wind, passing heedlessly over
And all the wild sweetness I waked was thy own!
The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long;
When, proudly, my own Island Harp! I unbound thee
And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song!
The warm lay of love and the light tone of gladness
Have wakened thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill;
But so oft has thou echo'd the deep sigh of sadness
That e'en in thy mirth it will steal from thee still
Dear Harp of my Country, farewell to thy numbers
This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine;
Go, sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers
Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine
If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover
Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone;
I was but as the wind, passing heedlessly over
And all the wild sweetness I waked was thy own!
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