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Alice Meynell (Элис Мейнелл)


A Shattered Lute


I touched the heart that loved me as a player
    Touches a lyre. Content with my poor skill,
    No touch save mine knew my beloved (and still
I thought at times: Is there no sweet lost air

Old loves could wake in him, I cannot share?)
    O he alone, alone could so fulfil
    My thoughts in sound to the measure of my will.
He is gone, and silence takes me unaware.

The songs I knew not he resumes, set free
From my constraining love, alas for me!
    His part in our tune goes with him; my part

Is locked in me for ever; I stand as mute
    As one with vigorous music in his heart
Whose fingers stray upon a shattered lute.



Alice Meynell's other poems:
  1. In February
  2. West Wind in Winter
  3. To Sylvia
  4. A Poet's Wife
  5. The Newer Vainglory


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