RICH is the music of sweet instruments, -- The separate harp, cornet, oboe, and flute, The deep-souled viola, the 'cello grave, The many-mooded, singing violin, The infinite, triumphing, ivoried clavier; And when, with art mysterious, some god Thrills into one the lone and various tones, Then is no hiding passion of the heart, No sigh of evening winds, no breath of dawn, No hope or hate of man that is not told. But when a human voice leaps from that surge 'T is as a flower that bursts from th' trembling earth; Something more wonderful assails the soul, As, with exultant cries, up-curving, swift, The shrill Walk¸re clamor against the sky, Or pale Br¸nhilde moans her bitter fate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 13 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A MORE ANCIENT MARINER by BLISS CARMAN BALLAD OF THE GOODLY FERE by EZRA POUND DOOMSDAY: TREASURES IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) HERACLES AND MELEAGER by BACCHYLIDES AN EPITAPH UPON THE DEATH OF HIS AUNT, ELIZABETH SKRYMSHER by RICHARD BARNFIELD DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: THE SLIGHT AND DEGENERATE NATURE OF MAN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |