And Grief forgot the keynote of its threne.
IV.
I rose in haste. I seiz'd, as in a trance,
My violin, the friend I love the best
(After thyself, sweet soul!) and wildly press'd,
And firmly drew it, with a master's glance,
Straight to my heart! The sunbeams seem'd to dance
Athwart the strings, to rob me of my rest.
V.
For then a living thing it did appear,