The Violin’s Complaint

onest Stradivari made me:  
With the gift of love he blest me;  
Once, delight, a master played me,  
Love awoke when he caressed me!  
  
Oh the deep, ecstatic burning!
Oh the secrets low and tender!  
Oh the passion and the yearning  
At our love´s complete surrender!  
  
Heartless men, so long to hide me  
With the costly toys you cherish;
I ´m a soul—again confide me  
To a lover, ere I perish!

- William Roscoe Thayer