 | Poems (1895) |  |
120
L. TO THE PIANOFORTE.
Nobly, Piano! hast thou held thy place(Inspired by brain-and-heart-enkindled hands)
In strength, in sweetness, majesty and grace,
Beside the Frame loud bruited in the lands,
In which it higher laud than thine commands:
Unjustly, seems it: I would rather hear,
In the rapt stillness of this peopled room,
From thy roused depths—when, even as now, inform'd
(Thy coldness into passionate utterance warm'd)
By this High Priestess of thy Mysteries—
Beethoven's Pathos and dread March of doom,
In their great melodies and harmonies,
Than from all sound-shrines, gather'd to one sphere,
In Palace, or in full-throng'd Theatre!
13 February 1871.
| Poems (1895) | |