The Violin's Complaint
Honest stradivari made men:
With the gift of love he blest me;
Once, delight, a master played me,
Love awoke when he caressed me!
Oh the deep, ecstatic burning!
Oh the secrets low and tender!
Oh the passion and the yearning
At our love’s complete surrender!
Heartless men, so long to hide me
With the costly toys you cherish;
I ’m a soul—again confide me
To a lover, ere I perish!