TO music we listen From one whom I never may meet Again, That makes all eyes glisten And thrills every spirit: her sweet Refrain, Like the mingling of viol and harp and lute, Is soon As tender and sad as the plaintive night birds' that salute The Moon. The cause of her magic Is private to each who can feel Her spells; Tones gay and tones tragic Sound dirge-like, or else seem to peal Joy bells: To me warbles one who with Nature is quite In tune, Who wafts me the rapture of May, and the whispered delight Of June. Some sweet notes arrest me, Like echoes from field, lane, and vale Unspent, Of song that once blest me From thrush, merle, and rich nightingale All blent: I am steeped with the glory of old, mid the dreams Of youth; And catch thro' the story fair Nature then told me faint gleams Of Truth. Some soft strains that reach me Betoken a spirit refined And pure, And linger to teach me The graces and charms that my kind Allure: They gush from a heart that mid anguish and guile And woe Is faithful, and brave, and contented to languish awhile Below. Some rare tones bewitch me All fresh from a soul that can soar At will -- Return to enrich me With calm from the passionless Shore -- And trill To all who lend audience, some tale of that Clime So fair, In music that seems a sweet snatch of the ravishing Chime Sung there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AND SO, I THINK DIOGENES by AMY LOWELL WINTER SONG by KATHERINE MANSFIELD EARTH IS ENOUGH by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IN 'DESIGNING A CLOAK TO CLOAK HIS DESIGNS' YOU WRESTED FROM OBLIVION by MARIANNE MOORE THE PAST IS THE PRESENT (2) by MARIANNE MOORE |