George Gordon Byron

(22 January 1788 – 19 April 1824 / London, England)

My Soul Is Dark - Poem by George Gordon Byron

My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,
And ached in sleepless silence, long;
And now 'tis doomed to know the worst,
And break at once - or yield to song.


Comments about My Soul Is Dark by George Gordon Byron

  • Katrina S (8/20/2017 10:38:00 PM)


    Who can resist the heady romanticism of this? (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: sorrow, silence, song, joy, hope, dark, heart



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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