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