How like a harp with quivering silver strings My being at your soul-chord, thrills and sings; A touch can set a-tremor liquid notes As breezes bend a ripened field of oats; A crash can sweep the taut strings from their hold To leave them meaningless—and frayed—and old. Caressing fingers bring the overtones Transcending time and space of distant zones: Zones of enchantment such as come in dreams From white soul-spaces, all one's life, it seems. An ecstacy but dreamed of lilts and swings— How like a harp with quivering silver strings! Your soul-antennae sense the ether thrill Where other instruments are mute and still, And softer chords than other ears may know Come to your listening soul, and oh—and oh— The moment is its own reward, if then The distant music never sound again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 6. A VISIT FROM THE SEA by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AMERICAN THEMES FOR A GILBERT by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ALL WHITE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HOW GREY THE WORLD WAS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT PETITION (1) by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE A HYMN OF FORM by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |