Play I could once; but, gentle friend, you see
My harp hung up here on the willow tree.
Sing I could once; and bravely, too, inspire
With luscious numbers my melodious lyre.
Draw I could once, although not stocks or stones,
Amphion-like, men made of flesh and bones,
Whither I would; but ah! I know not how,
I feel in me this transmutation now.
Grief, my dear friend, has first my harp unstrung,
Wither'd my hand, and palsy-struck my tongue.
To His Friend, On The Untunable Times
Robert Herrick
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Poem topics: feel, grief, tree, dear, gentle, tongue, play, friend, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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