Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/413

Rh And I would walk the shore of sound with him

Whose voice was as the voice of cherubim:

Musician most authentic and sublime

Of all the sons of time.

Bring their deep joys, the breath of solitudes,

Dear dreams and longings, and high, hero moods;

Ay, bring me their melodious despairs

To die in twilight airs.

For, given a rhythmic voice, re-uttered so,

Sorrow itself is lost in the large flow

Of nature; and of life is made such part

As doth enrich the heart;

And on the tide of music, to my soul

Shall enter beauty's solace—life be whole,

Not broken by chords discordant, but most sweet,

In sequent tones complete.

II

Great is the true interpreter, for like

No other art, two sentient souls must strike

The spark of music that in blackness lies

'Mid silent harmonies,

Till, at a cunning touch, the long-lost theme

Newly imagined, and new-born in dream,

Clothed gloriously in garment of sweet sound

Wakes from its darkened swound.

So would I ask, Musician! of thy grace

That thou wouldst bless and sanctify the place

With august harmonies, well-loved of old;—

But from thy manifold