RICH is the music of sweet instruments, -- The separate harp, cornet, oboe, and flute, The deep-souled viola, the 'cello grave, The many-mooded, singing violin, The infinite, triumphing, ivoried clavier; And when, with art mysterious, some god Thrills into one the lone and various tones, Then is no hiding passion of the heart, No sigh of evening winds, no breath of dawn, No hope or hate of man that is not told. But when a human voice leaps from that surge 'T is as a flower that bursts from th' trembling earth; Something more wonderful assails the soul, As, with exultant cries, up-curving, swift, The shrill Walk¸re clamor against the sky, Or pale Br¸nhilde moans her bitter fate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SELF-REJECTED by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER BLIZZARD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO HIS WINDING-SHEET by ROBERT HERRICK I DO NOT LOVE THEE by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON TO THE SOLITUDE OF FONTENAY by GUILLAUME AMFRYE ON THE LOSS OF A PIOUS FRIEND by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: A VISION by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON PRECIOUS STONES; AN INCIDENT IN MODERN HISTORY by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY |