Poem by Henry Kirke White

Melody

Yes, once more that dying strain,
Anna, touch thy lute for me;
Sweet, when pity's tones complain,
Doubly sweet is melody.

While the Virtues thus enweave
Mildly soft the thrilling song,
Winter's long and lonesome eve
Glides unfelt, unseen, along.

Thus when life hath stolen away,
And the wintry night is near,
Thus shall virtue's friendly ray
Age's closing evening, cheer.

1. Lines Written on a Survey of the Heavens in the Morning before Daybreak
2. Description of a Summer’s Eve
3. Inscription for a Monument to the Memory of Cowper
4. On Being Confined to School One Pleasant Morning in Spring
5. I'm Pleased and Yet I'm Sad

John Cunningham Melody ("Lightsome as convey'd by sparrows")

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