Oh! do not play me music any more,
Lest in us mortal, some not mortal spell
Should stir strange hopes, and leave a tale to tell
Of two belovéd whom holy music bore,
Through whispering night and doubt's uncertain seas,
To drift at length along a dawnless shore,
The last sad goal of human harmonies.
Look! do not play me music any more.
You are my music and my mistress both,
Why, then, let music play the master here?
Make silent melody, Melodie. I am loath
To find that music, large in my soul's ear,
Should stop my fancy, hold my heart in prize,
And make me dreamer more than dreams are wise.
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