AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO E. J. EXPERIENCE, like a pale musician, holds A dulcimer of patience in his hand, Whence harmonies, we cannot understand, Of God's will in his worlds, the strain unfolds In sad-perplexed minors: deathly colds Fall on us while we hear, and countermand Our sanguine heart back from the fancy-land With nightingales in visionary wolds. We murmur 'Where is any certain tune Or measured music in such notes as these?' But angels, leaning from the golden seat, Are not so minded; their fine ear hath won The issue of completed cadences, And, smiling down the stars, they whisper -- SWEET. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE THRESHOLD by ASTLEY H. BALDWIN GIRLS! PASS ALONG! by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE NEW ANTHEM by NORMAN BOLKER SAVAGES by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN A THOUGHT FOR A LONELY DEATH-BED by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE THANKSGIVING FOR AMERICA by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH |