~

The Harp

(for Sarah Marie Mullen)

~

Fine and rare are all the woods,

Graceful, every curve and form,

Rich and mellow, the autumnal tones,

Bright the strings

With which it’s strung.  

~

It’s a transitory thing,” said she,

“For the tensions of the strings surpass

So fine a soundboard’s capacity

To remain true, to forever last, 

And so, a harp will fade.”  

~

Then nimble fingers danced on strings  

And tones spilled out, all fair and bright,  

There was iridescence upon the air  

Like fountain spray that’s caught the light,  

And the ghost of Carolan smiled. 

~

Fine and rare are all the woods,

Graceful every curve and form,

Rich and mellow, the autumnal tones,

Bright the strings

With which it’s strung. 

~

                     G. S. Hargrave,  August 2005