Away, Away, Ye Notes Of Woe!
Away,
away,
ye
notes
of
woe!
Be
silent,
thou
once
soothing
strain,
Or
I
must
flee
from
hence--for,
oh!
I
dare
not
trust
those
sounds
again.
To
me
they
speak
of
brighter
days
But
lull
the
chords,
for
now,
alas!
I
must
not
think,
I
may
not
gaze,
On
what
I
am--on
what
I
was.
The
voice
that
made
those
sounds
more
sweet
Is
hush'd,
and
all
their
charms
are
fled
And
now
their
softest
notes
repeat
A
dirge,
an
anthem
o'er
the
dead!
Yes,
Thyrza!
yes,
they
breathe
of
thee,
Beloved
dust!
since
dust
thou
art;
And
all
that
once
was
harmony
Is
worse
than
discord
to
my
heart!
'Tis
silent
all!--but
on
my
ear
The
well
remember'd
echoes
thrill;
I
hear
a
voice
I
would
not
hear,
A
voice
that
now
might
well
be
still:
Yet
oft
my
doubting
soul
'twill
shake;
Even
slumber
owns
its
gentle
tone,
Till
consciousness
will
vainly
wake
To
listen,
though
the
dream
be
flown.
Sweet
Thyrza!
waking
as
in
sleep,
Thou
art
but
now
a
lovely
dream;
A
star
that
trembled
o'er
the
deep,
Then
turn'd
from
earth
its
tender
beam.
But
he
who
through
life's
dreary
way
Must
pass,
when
heaven
is
veil'd
in
wrath,
Will
long
lament
the
vanish'd
ray
That
scatter'd
gladness
o'er
his
path.
