AN old worn harp that had been played br Till all its strings were loose and frayed, br Joy, Hate and Fear, each one essayed, br To play. But each in turn had found br No sweet responsiveness of sound br Then Love the Master-Player came br With heaving breast and eyes aflame; br The harp he took all undismayed, br Smote on its strings, still strange to song, br And brought forth music sweet and strong.