« PreviousContinue »
Each face took on its mask, where lately
burned A spirit charmed to sight by music's art;
But unto one who caught that inner flame No face of all can ever seem the same.
Richard Watson Gilder.
HE'D NOTHING BUT HIS VIOLIN
He'd nothing but his violin,
We sometimes supped on dewberries
Mary Kyle Dallas.
THE ÆOLIAN HARP
O take that airy harp from out the gale,
ing! How sweet it falls, unwinding from the
breeze! Disordered music, deep and tear-compelling, Like siren-voices pealing o'er the seas. Nay, take it not, for now my tears are stealing, But when it brake upon my mirthful hour, And spake to joy of sorrow past the healing, I shrank beneath the soft subduing power; Nay, take it not; replace it by my bower The soul can thrill with no diviner feeling.
Charles Tennyson Turner.
A CHOPIN PRELUDE
A certain Chopin prelude once I heard.