John Bannister Tabb

1845-1909 / the United States

O'Ercome

I pause for tears. But thou, my lute,
Why art thou, like thy master, mute?
Hath harmony within thee bred
The hope thou hast interpreted?
Nay; if thou falter, Love may deem
Our passion but an idle dream.
Speak then, my lute, that all may hear
How silence holds me prisoner.
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