Play I Could Once; But, Gentle Friend, You See My Harp Hung Up Here On The Willow Tree. Sing I Could Once; And Bravely, Too, Inspire With Luscious Numbers My Melodious Lyre. Draw I Could Once, Although Not Stocks Or Stones, Amphion-Like, Men Made Of Flesh And Bones, Whither I Would; But Ah! I Know Not How, I Feel In Me This Transmutation Now. Grief, My Dear Friend, Has First My Harp Unstrung, Wither'D My Hand, And Palsy-Struck My Tongue.