IN the long studio from whose towering walls Calm Pheidias beams, and Angelo appalls, Eager the listening, downcast faces throng While violins their piercing tones prolong. At times I know not if I see, or hear, Yon statue's smile, or some not sorrowing tear Down-falling on the surface of the stream That music pours across my waking dream. Ah, is it then a dream that while repeat Those chords, like strokes of silver-shod light feet, And the great Master's music marches on -- I hear the horses of the Parthenon? But all to-day seems vague, unreal, far, With fear and discord in the dearest strain, For 'neath yon slowly-sinking western star One that I love lies on her bed of pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LINE-STORM SONG by ROBERT FROST EILEEN AROON by GERALD JOSEPH GRIFFIN THOSE VARIOUS SCALPELS by MARIANNE MOORE THE BOUNDARIES OF APPRECIATION by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE TWO MASKS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO SIGURD by KATHARINE LEE BATES |