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Poetry Friday: The Old Violin by Maurice Francis Egan

December 9th, 2010 (09:05 pm)
thirsty

Current Mood: thirsty
Current Song: Fringe score music

Though tuneless, stringless, it lies there in dust,
Like some great thought on a forgotten page;
The soul of music cannot fade or rust,-
The voice within it stronger grows with age;
Its strings and bow are only trifling things-
A master-touch!-its sweet soul wakes and sings.

- The Old Violin by Maurice Francis Egan

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