Lord Byron Poem

My Soul Is Dark

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My soul is dark – Oh! quickly string
  The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
  Its melting murmur o’er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
  That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
  ‘Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,
  Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
  Or else this heavy heart will burst;
For it had been by sorrow nursed,
  And ached in sleepless silence long;
And now ‘tis doomed to know the worst,
  And break at once – or yield to song.

I Saw Thee Weep
Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty’s Bloom

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