 | The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes |  |
LETTER TO THE CONNECTICUT STATE MEDICAL SOCIETY
MARCH 23, 1855
If schoolboy memory does not serve me wrong,
The God of Physic was the God of Song,
Whence cunning slander on the lips of some,
Declares his best prescription was a hum,
Though modern skill disowns the pun,
Medicine and Music still are one.
The God of Physic was the God of Song,
Whence cunning slander on the lips of some,
Declares his best prescription was a hum,
Though modern skill disowns the pun,
Medicine and Music still are one.
Health to the great Musician! Him whose art
Steals through the senses to the coldest heart.
Not his to flourish on the pipe or lute,
The horn, the fife, the flageolet, or flute;
He blows no trumpet, draws no bow, nor sings;
He only plays—the “harp of thousand strings.”
Steals through the senses to the coldest heart.
Not his to flourish on the pipe or lute,
The horn, the fife, the flageolet, or flute;
He blows no trumpet, draws no bow, nor sings;
He only plays—the “harp of thousand strings.”
| The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes | |