He touched the strings; & lo, the strain—
As waters dimple to the rain—
Spontaneous rose and fell again.
In swaddling clothes or silence bound,
His genius a soul had found,
And wakened it to light and sound.
The Lute-Player
 1845-1909, 0 views Categories: Other View OptionsSign up for FREEA free allpoetry.com account is required to comment and participate. It's fast and free! 
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