My soul is dark — oh quickly string
The harp I yet  brook to hear
And let thy gentle fingers fling
It’s 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