The American common-place book of poetry with occasional notes |
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Lines to a Lady of great musical Talent.—Mrs. Child.
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 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
Lines to a Lady of great musical Talent.—Mrs. Child.
Thanks, Orphea, thanks: thy magic spell
Has waked my soul to sound,
And, deep within a sealed well,
A spring of joy is found.
Has waked my soul to sound,
And, deep within a sealed well,
A spring of joy is found.
357
My ear was like the wayward strings,
Which the wild winds breathe o'er;
And fitful in its echoings
Has my spirit been before.
Which the wild winds breathe o'er;
And fitful in its echoings
Has my spirit been before.
But something in my inmost heart
Responds to each touch of thine,
And bids me own thy wondrous art
The soul of the “tuneful Nine.”
Responds to each touch of thine,
And bids me own thy wondrous art
The soul of the “tuneful Nine.”
Yes, all I've dreamed of bright or fair,
Is but imbodied sound:
Music is floating on the air,
In every thing around!
Is but imbodied sound:
Music is floating on the air,
In every thing around!
All Nature hath of breezy grace,
In motion swift and free,—
Each lovely hue upon her face,—
Is living melody.
In motion swift and free,—
Each lovely hue upon her face,—
Is living melody.
Well might thy witchery inspire
The bard's enraptured lay,
And flashes of prophetic fire
Around thy fingers play;—
The bard's enraptured lay,
And flashes of prophetic fire
Around thy fingers play;—
But vainly would the haunted king
Have sought relief from thee;
For chained had been each demon's wing,
By thy rich minstrelsy.
Have sought relief from thee;
For chained had been each demon's wing,
By thy rich minstrelsy.
Priestess of a mighty power,
My spirit worships thee;
For inspiration is thy dower—
Thy voice is poetry.
My spirit worships thee;
For inspiration is thy dower—
Thy voice is poetry.
| The American common-place book of poetry | |