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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=115180" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lines</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=115180" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Sing me that song again,<br> That wild, impassioned lay;<br> The tumult of my throbbing brain<br> Thy voice shall charm away.<br> <br> Pour that harmonious flood<br> Upon my thirsting ear;<br> 'Twill cool the fever of my blood<br> Those silvery notes to hear.<br> <br> Sing me that mournful song,<br> That song of love and woe,<br> That these full fountains, closed so long,<br> Once more may overflow.<br> <br> And while those gentle strings<br> Thy fairy hand sweeps o'er,<br> Upon thy music's trembling wings<br> My fainting soul shall soar.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Anne+Lynch+Botta">Anne Lynch Botta</a></strong> from <em><a href="http://sources.citatepedia.com/from.php?a=Anne+Lynch+Botta&d=Poems">Poems</a></em></div>

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