Jaysus! I've come over all allegorical! Apologies to Thomas Moore …

The harp that once through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled
And beauty caught in jet and jade
No longer on display
But the veil will not their beauty fade
Nor the drape their charms decay

No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells;
The chord alone that breaks at night
Its tale of ruin tells.
The works that those before us made
Will last when we are dust
The veil will not their beauty fade
Though fade our beauty must

The harp that once through Tara's halls
Was plucked by Tara's bards
Now mutely hangs on Tara's walls
And the minstrel has been barred
The artists who used tint and stone
To conjure works sublime
With the wind away've been blown
With those who fashion rhymes

And now in Tara's marble halls
We're deafened by the sound
That echoes off her warble walls –
A silence so profound
And grim we are in Tara's courts
And grey and hard and cold
And Tara has become a fort
When once it was a fold