After a Concert

'Tis o'er—and where has gone the melodyThat filled my soul with such supreme delight?Have golden chords like these fled utterlyInto the still and unresponsive night?Will they no more my drooping thoughts upstayIn days to come when dark despondence reigns?Will they no more illumine life's dull grey,No more bring solace for its many pains?

Content thyself: two golden hours is muchTo snatch from out the niggard hands of fate;Ask not for more lest it exact for suchOf dull discouragement a double rate:Yet to you shall a melody be knownFrom memory drawn: a dulcet undertone.