As always, tell me what you think.
This music has a beauty of design
That moves me to a pleasant sort of pain.
I feel the drips of lovers’ tears in mine,
As, on my cheeks, they trace the heartfelt strain;
I feel the regret of love spent in vain
As fire in my heart, as if salty brine
Flowed in from some bitter and lonely vein,
And fed old sighs with long-preserving wine;
I feel my heart-strings being gently played
By artful hands that move quick with passion,
With strains of beauty that sound raw, or frayed,
Yet like nocent balms heal their own tension;
And this music alone, it seems to me,
Is so tender in love as I would be.