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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530027" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530027" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The harp that once through Tara's halls <br>The soul of music shed, <br>Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, <br>As if that soul were fled. -- <br>So sleeps the pride of former days, <br>So glory's thrill is o'er, <br>And hearts, that once beat high for praise, <br>Now feel that pulse no more. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530027" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">No more to chiefs and ladies bright <br>The harp of Tara swells; <br>The chord alone, that breaks at night, <br>Its tale of ruin tells. <br>Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, <br>The only throb she gives, <br>Is when some heart indignant breaks, <br>To show that still she lives.</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=Thomas+Moore">Thomas Moore</a></strong></div>

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