Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO A FACE AT A CONCERT, by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO A FACE AT A CONCERT, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: When the low music makes a dusk of sound
Last Line: The voice of instruments a human cry?
Alternate Author Name(s): Hedbrooke, Andrew
Subject(s): Symphonies; Concerts


WHEN the low music makes a dusk of sound
About us, and the viol or far-off horn
Swells out above it like a wind forlorn,
That wanders seeking something never found,
What phantom in your brain, on what dim ground,
Traces its shadowy lines? What vision, born
Of unfulfillment, fades in mere self-scorn,
Or grows, from that still twilight stealing round?
When the lids droop and the hands lie unstrung,
Dare one divine your dream, while the chords weave
Their cloudy woof from key to key, and die, --
Is it one fate that, since the world was young,
Has followed man, and makes him half believe
The voice of instruments a human cry?





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