Lo! the movement too wondrous to name! Ah! but the exquisite strain, Is life then a lie and a cheat? Comes a shock like the voice of a soul Drops a chord like the grave's first clod. O Siren, that charmest the air With this potent and passionate spell, Sad as songs of the angels that fell, Thou leadest alone to despair! What troubles the night? It grows chillLet the weird wild music, be, MON EPIPHANY LANCH Orary, Fronts us the infinite sea And Nature is holy and still. Celia Thaxter. BEETHOVEN'S THIRD SYMPHONY Passion and pain, the outcry of despair, And youth's delight in pleasures that expire, And sweet high dreamings of the good and fair Clashing in swift soul-storm, through which no prayer Uplifted stays the destined death-stroke dire! Then through a mighty sorrowing as through fire The soul burnt pure yearns forth into the air Of the dear earth and, with the scent of flowers And song of birds refreshed, takes heart again, Made cheerier with this drinking of God's wine, And turns with healing to the world of men; And high above a sweet strong angel towers, And Love makes life triumphant and divine. Richard Hovey. BEETHOVEN'S FIFTH SYMPHONY The mind's deep history here in tones is wrought, The faith, the struggles of the aspiring soul, Alternate moods of bold and timorous thought, Slowly the doubts dissolve in clearer air. Bolder and grander the triumphal strain Ascends. Heaven's light is glancing on the brow, And turns to boundless hope the old despair. Christopher P. Cranch. BEETHOVEN'S SIXTH SYMPHONY (Andante) Sounding above the warring of the years, Over their stretch of toil and pain and fears, Comes the well-loved refrain, The ancient voice again. Sweeter than when, beside the river's marge, We lay and watched, like innocence at large, The cheerful waters flow, Speaks this brave music now. Tender as sunlight upon childhood's head, Serene as moonlight upon childhood's bed, Comes the remembered power Of that long-vanished hour. The river ran with merry voice and low, Though idling were their choice. Now through the tumult and the pride of life, Gentler, yet firmly soothing all its strife, |