IN the long studio from whose towering walls Calm Pheidias beams, and Angelo appalls, Eager the listening, downcast faces throng While violins their piercing tones prolong. At times I know not if I see, or hear, Yon statue's smile, or some not sorrowing tear Down-falling on the surface of the stream That music pours across my waking dream. Ah, is it then a dream that while repeat Those chords, like strokes of silver-shod light feet, And the great Master's music marches on -- I hear the horses of the Parthenon? But all to-day seems vague, unreal, far, With fear and discord in the dearest strain, For 'neath yon slowly-sinking western star One that I love lies on her bed of pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BELLS OF HEAVEN by RALPH HODGSON THE PALM TREE by ABD-AR RAHMAN I DANUBE AND THE EUXINE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN SPARROWS SELF-DOMESTICATED IN TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE by VINCENT BOURNE DIVIDED by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE ARS GUBERNANDI by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB |