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THE BROKEN HARP. 145
But her spirit doth not slumber, Though her harp is now unstrung;
For those messengers of Heaven, Who -were listening while she sung,
Thought her numbers too entrancing For this sterile world below,
And wish'd to hear them sounding ' Where the waves of crystal flow.
That harp, that harp is broken ;
But the list'ning angel choir Conveyed the minstrel's spirit,
In a chariot of fire, To a clime of bliss and beauty,
.To a harp of sweeter tone— They promoted the young minstrel
To a place before the Throne.
Weep not for her advancement—
She was needed in the sky; Weep not for the rent harp-strings—
She has better ones on high! And mourn not for the numbers
Which were floating to thine ear, But haste, my soul, to job her
Where she charms a purer sphere! 10 |
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