The Spinet

My heart an old Spinet with strings
To laughter chiefly turned, but some
That Fate has practised hard on, dumb,
They answer not whoever sings.
The ghosts of half-forgotten things
Will touch the keys with fingers numb,
The little mocking spirits come
And thrill it with their fairy wings.



A jingling harmony it makes
My heart, my lyre, my old Spinet,
And now a memory it wakes,
And now the music means "forget,"
And little heed the player takes
Howe'er the thoughtful critic fret.

Note: SPINET. The accent is on the last foot, even when the word is written spinnet. Compare the remarkable Liberty which Pamela took with the 137th Psalm.

My Joys and Hopes all overthrown, My Heartstrings almost broke, Unfit my Mind for Melody, Much more to bear a Joke. But yet, if from my Innocence I, even in Thought, should slide, Then, let my fingers quite forget The sweet Spinnet to guide!

Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, vol. i., p. 184., 1785