And string anew, and set athrob a string
Abuilded of a lover’s note, and lo,
The song did sick and die,
And crumbled to a sweeted dust,
And blew unto the day.
Anew did I to string,
Astring with wail o’ babe,
And Earth loved not the song.
I felled asorrowed at the task,
And still the Harp wert mute.