 | Words by the Wayside |  |
113
Joachim
How oft his vibrant bow now laid supine—
Mighty interpreter of the lords of sound—
Hath caught the dust-drift of our daily round
And danced it into mazy forms divine,
Making the dull seem dear, the common fine,
And our dead thoughts within to leap and bound
With intricate phantasies lost as soon as found,
And stainless left the floor-way of God's shrine!
Mighty interpreter of the lords of sound—
Hath caught the dust-drift of our daily round
And danced it into mazy forms divine,
Making the dull seem dear, the common fine,
And our dead thoughts within to leap and bound
With intricate phantasies lost as soon as found,
And stainless left the floor-way of God's shrine!
Selfless and sacrosanct he held his aim
Unwavering, true as needle to the star.
For his initiate ear long deaf to fame,
And ever rapt from earth's discordant din,
The temple of music hung her doors ajar.
O who can grieve that he hath entered in?
Unwavering, true as needle to the star.
For his initiate ear long deaf to fame,
And ever rapt from earth's discordant din,
The temple of music hung her doors ajar.
O who can grieve that he hath entered in?
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