The Lady to Her Guitar [SSC7 Poetry Challenge]

For him who struck thy foreign string I ween this heart hath ceased to care; Then why dost thou such feelings bring To my sad spirit, old guitar? It is as if the warm sunlight In some deep glen should lingering stay, When clouds of tempest and of night Had wrapt the parent orb away. It is as if the glassy brook Should image still its willows fair, Though years ago, the woodman’s stroke Laid low in dust their gleaming hair. Even so, guitar thy magic tone Has moved the tear and waked the sigh, Has bid the ancient torrent flow Although its very source is dry! Lyrics: Emily Brontë