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As one who drinks from a charmèd cup
Invites to love with her kiss divine.
Percy Bysshe Shelley.
(Written during Music)
Is it the moved air or the moving sound
That 'mid the tide of all emergency
Its difficult eddies labor in the ground?
O! what is this that knows the road I came, The flame turned cloud, the cloud returned to
The lifted shifted steeps and all the way? That draws round me at last this wind-warm
space, And in regenerate rapture turns my face Upon the devious coverts of dismay?
Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
When thro' life unblest we rove,
Losing all that made life dear, Should some notes we used to love,
In days of boyhood, meet our ear, Oh! how welcome breathes the strain!
Wakening thoughts that long have slept, Kindling former smiles again
In faded eyes that long have wept.
Like the gale that sighs along
Beds of oriental flowers,
That once was heard in happier hours;
Though the flowers have sunk in death; So, when pleasure's dream is gone,
Its memory lives in Music's breath.
Music, oh, how faint, how weak,
Language fades before thy spell! Why should Feeling even speak,
When thou canst breathe her soul so well? Friendship's balmy words may feign,
Love's are ev'n more false than they;
Lo! what am I, my heart, that I should dare
She, pausing for my voice, and listening long, May know its silence sadder than its song.
Philip Bourke Marston.
When whispering strains with creeping wind
When threads can make
When unto heavenly joys we faine
Whose lays we think