ALAS, that my heart is a lute,
  Whereon you have learned to play!
  For a many years it was mute,
  Until one summer’s day
You took it, and touched it, and made it thrill,
And it thrills and throbs, and quivers still!

  I had known you, dear, so long!
  Yet my heart did not tell me why
  It should burst one morn into song,...