 | East and west : the discovery of America and other poems |  |
95
LOVE AND MUSIC.
God spoke!
His breath upon cold planes of space congealed,
Like morning's rising wreath of smoke
Above a vernal field!
His breath upon cold planes of space congealed,
Like morning's rising wreath of smoke
Above a vernal field!
It was the piercing Word
That the long shining coils of Chaos stirred!
It blossomed like a snowdrop from a frozen sod—
The word was God!
That the long shining coils of Chaos stirred!
It blossomed like a snowdrop from a frozen sod—
The word was God!
Yet in the very bosom of this Law
A blazing star I saw,
Whose sympathetic glow
Melted the crystals of that universal snow
Into one blinding human mood of thaw.
It was the message of the Holy Dove,
The unity of Love!
A blazing star I saw,
Whose sympathetic glow
Melted the crystals of that universal snow
Into one blinding human mood of thaw.
It was the message of the Holy Dove,
The unity of Love!
So in our crowns of praise
Woven in soulful moments of our earthly days
I know the circling secret of a joy transcends
The ministry of thought for colder, clearer ends!
Ah, Music, thine
The throbbing, bleeding, unifying heart
That burns within the central shrine
Of perfect Art!
Woven in soulful moments of our earthly days
I know the circling secret of a joy transcends
The ministry of thought for colder, clearer ends!
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The throbbing, bleeding, unifying heart
That burns within the central shrine
Of perfect Art!
And speech,—O, speech!—
Lies like a pure white maiden out of reach—
Farther and farther down
She circles like a falling crown.
And from this sensitive and rare
Harp of the unarticulated air
A soft rose-scented cloud of beauty swells,
As from a myriad nodding fairy bells
By breath of morning rung,
As if each ether-atom had a tongue.
Lies like a pure white maiden out of reach—
Farther and farther down
She circles like a falling crown.
And from this sensitive and rare
Harp of the unarticulated air
A soft rose-scented cloud of beauty swells,
As from a myriad nodding fairy bells
By breath of morning rung,
As if each ether-atom had a tongue.
Ah, Music, tell us
Harmonious secrets that shall make speech jealous.
Let poets crawl
Over the dusty mountains of yon ball!
Let utmost fire of verses run
With hiss of rockets to the absorbing sun!
They have no words
To match the spontaneous eloquence of birds.
Their whispers vainly drift like trees
Upon the torrents of the astral seas.
Harmonious secrets that shall make speech jealous.
Let poets crawl
Over the dusty mountains of yon ball!
Let utmost fire of verses run
With hiss of rockets to the absorbing sun!
They have no words
To match the spontaneous eloquence of birds.
Their whispers vainly drift like trees
Upon the torrents of the astral seas.
And when the Sun in moody frowns and smiles
The universe inbreathes,
Or shoots coronal wreaths
In maddening radiance through a million miles,
The master of the lyre alone shall hear that spell
Like some rapt maiden listening to a white reverberating shell.
Thought leaps beyond
The painful cycle of a finite bond,
Swept to a hot magnetic plane,
Like smoke of burning worlds caught in a hurricane.
The universe inbreathes,
Or shoots coronal wreaths
97
The master of the lyre alone shall hear that spell
Like some rapt maiden listening to a white reverberating shell.
Thought leaps beyond
The painful cycle of a finite bond,
Swept to a hot magnetic plane,
Like smoke of burning worlds caught in a hurricane.
So, Music, thine the deeper, truer word
God in the temple of His silence heard
When sense was born.
No outward broken symbol angels knew.
With one harmonious throb of Love they flew
Upon the pearly bosom of that primal morn.
God in the temple of His silence heard
When sense was born.
No outward broken symbol angels knew.
With one harmonious throb of Love they flew
Upon the pearly bosom of that primal morn.
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