It seemed to me a little rivulet That gently flows along its course, By woodland and thru field, And then its scanty bosom filled by rain, A larger stream becomes And flows till rocky crags and steppes are reached And tossed by storms and lashed by winds A raging cataract it is. Spent its fury, now at last In depths of placid lake, Its voice once more is calm. And thus your music moved me, thrilled me; Gently first, in paeans of joy It swept into my soul. And then it rose, crescendo on crescendo Until this very heart of mine Did surge and strain as anchored ship in storm; Tossed and billowed and at length o'er flowed In soothing flood of harmony, And softly then it spread o'er all In blessed wealth of soul, Its benediction sweet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: BARRETT BAYS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IN A BURYING GROUND by SARA TEASDALE EPIGRAM: A LAME BEGGAR by JOHN DONNE A DOUBLE STANDARD by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER THE ROAD TO FRANCE by DANIEL MACINTYRE HENDERSON THE CYNOTAPH by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM CHRISTMAS IN 1875 by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ON CREECH THE BOOKSELLER by ROBERT BURNS OUR OLD CENTER-TOWN VERMONT MEETINGHOUSE by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |