Page:Florence Earle Coates Poems 1898 24.jpg

 ISRAPHEL

midst the stars doth dwell,

Known to the gods as Israphel.

His heart-strings are a lute;

And when, the magic notes outpouring,

He parts his lips, the gods, adoring,

Listen in transport mute,

Subdued and softened by the spell

Of the dreamer, Israphel!

And mortals, when they hear him, start,

And, full of wonder, call him—Art,

And, fain his gift to gain,

Essay to imitate the fashion

Of his rare song, and breathe its passion,—

But, ah, they strive in vain;

For his song is more than art,

Whose lute-strings are his heart!

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