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APOSTROPHE TO JOHANN SEBAS
Some who hear are rapt away
Borne on wings of rapture
Ready to recapture
Which they long had lost
At such bitter cost-
To the pearly gates
Where the Flame-guard waits
Oh, the soul's attuned ear
Set to harps of gold
Angel hosts white-stoled,
Master Bach, this was thy power !
Before thine organ seated
Oh, miracle repeated
When men defeated,
New hopes conceived;
Once more believed
Exile with broken wings,
Once more to Hope's hand clings
Crowned with immortal rays,
Nathan Haskell Dole.
CHOPIN'S NOCTURNE IN G MINOR
Faint through the twilight hazes
Shimmers one palpitant star; Faint through the woodland mazes
The Angelus sounds afar.
Only the brook's murmur golden
Falls on the wanderer's ear; Voices of memories olden
The soul holds breath to hear.
Voices of joy and sorrow
Vanished and far away
Seems from this dying day,
When faint through the twilight hazes
Shimmers eve's palpitant star;
Who would know thee, a loving heart
bring, And hear with his heart's ears; else shall he
miss Thy perfect message and his own true bliss,As bird that fain would soar on single wing, But faints and falls in its unequal flight; For deepest depths of human tenderness Are thine, — the mother's love and
dear caress, The wanderer's longing for the blessed sight Of home and Fatherland, the lover's heart, Wild with despair, or thrilled with joyance
sweet Of happy souls who full requital meet. Thus nature's yearnings find in thee a part; O gentlest Master of them all, — since pain And joy do live, thou hast not lived in vain!
Music as of the winds when they awake,
Wailing, in the mid-forest; music that raves
Like moonless tides about forlorn sea-caves On desolate shores, where swell weird songs
and break In peals of demon laughter; chords athirst
With restless anguish of divine desires
The voice of a vexed soul ere it aspires With a great cry for light; anon a burst Of passionate joy - fierce joy of conscious
might, Down-sinking in voluptuous luxury; Rich harmonies, full-pulsed with deep delight,
And melodies dying deliciously As odorous sighs breathed through the quiet
night By violets. Thus Beethoven speaks for me.
BACH, IN THE FUGUES AND
Contentedly with strictest strands confined,
long, Or roll against the stars their rock-bound song.