short poems about true beauty

George Byron

My Soul Is Dark.

My soul is dark – Oh! quickly string

The harp I yet can brook to hear;

And let thy gentle fingers fling

Its melting murmur oer 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 had 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.