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
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