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per again,

ril rain;

down his

ime

es

Geethoven and his friends

from quintus hy d. Grutie

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ADELE AUS DER OHE

(Liszt)

I

What is her playing like?
'Tis like the wind in wintry northern valleys.
A dream-pause; - then it rallies
And once more bends the pine-tops, shatters
The ice-crags, whitely scatters
The spray along the paths of avalanches,
Starties the blood, and every visage blanches.

II

Half-sleeps the wind above a swirling pool
That holds the trembling shadow of the trees;
Where waves too wildly rush to freeze
Though all the air is cool;
And hear, oh hear, while musically call
With nearer tinkling sounds, or distant roar,
Voices of fall on fall;
And now a swelling blast, that dies; and now

no more, no more.

(Chopin)

I

Ah, what celestial art!
And can sweet thoughts become pure tone and

float, All music, into the trancèd mind and heart! Her hand scarce stirs the singing, wiry

metal – Hear from the wild-rose fall each perfect

petal!

II

And can we have, on earth, of heaven the

whole! Heard thoughts - the soul of inexpressible

thought; Roses of sound That strew melodious leaves upon the silent

ground; And music that is music's very soul, Without one touch of earth, Too tender, even, for sorrow, and too bright for mirth!

Richard Watson Gilder.

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