 | Later Lyrics |  |
281
CHOPIN.
We saw him in the death-nest laid;
His wings were folded, sad and still;
The glowing tropic of his breast
Endured no more Life's winter chill.
His wings were folded, sad and still;
The glowing tropic of his breast
Endured no more Life's winter chill.
But now, through Fancy's clouded gate,
He walks with Nature's spirit-kings;
The sceptre in his palsied hands
Strikes rapture at her deepest springs.
He walks with Nature's spirit-kings;
The sceptre in his palsied hands
Strikes rapture at her deepest springs.
His life was like an opal gem
That breaks in many a painful thrill:
The risen rainbow of his soul
The heaven of song is spanning still;
While happy Love and Grief sublime
Unite their emblems on his brow,
And pave with zeal his shadowy court,—
A Lover once, a Master now.
That breaks in many a painful thrill:
The risen rainbow of his soul
The heaven of song is spanning still;
282
Unite their emblems on his brow,
And pave with zeal his shadowy court,—
A Lover once, a Master now.
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