Sonnet. To A Lyre.
Friend of the lonely hour, from thy lov'd strain The magic pow'r of pleasure have I known: Awhile I lose remembrance of my pain, And seem to taste of joys that long had flown. When o'er my suffering soul reflection casts The gloom of sorrow's sable-shadowing veil, Recalling sad misfortunes chilling blasts How sweet to thee to tell the mournful tale! And tho' denied to me the strings to move Like heavenly-gifted bards, to whom belong The power to melt the yielding soul to love, Or wake to war, with energetic song. Yet thou, my Lyre, canst cheer the gloomy hour, When sullen grief asserts her tyrant pow'r.
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"Friend of the lonely hour, from thy lov'd strain..."
This evocative piece by Thomas Gent, titled "Sonnet. To A Lyre.", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...