TO touch a broken lute, To strike a jangled string, To strive with tones forever mute The dear old tunes to sing— What sadder fate could any heart befall? Alas! dear child, never to sing at all. To sigh for pleasures flown, To weep for withered flowers, To count the blessings we have known, Lost with the vanished hours— What sadder fate could any heart befall? Alas! dear child, ne’er to have known them all. To dream of love and rest, To know the dream has past, To bear within an aching breast Only a void at last— What sadder fate could any heart befall? Alas! dear child, ne’er to have loved at all. To trust an unknown good, To hope, but all in vain, Over a far-off bliss to brood, Only to find it pain— What sadder fate could any soul befall? Alas! dear child, never to hope at all.
The Saddest Fate
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