THE little rim of moon hangs low -- the room Is saintly with the presence of Night, And Silence broods with knitted brows around. The woven lilies of the velvet floor Blend with the roses in the dusky light, Which shows twin pictures glimmering from the walls: Here, a mailed group kneels by the rocky sea -- There, a gray desert, and a well, and palms; While the faint perfume of a violet, Vague as a dream of Spring, pervades the air. Where the moon gleams along the organ-front, The crooked shadow of a dead branch stirs Like ghostly fingers gliding through a tune. Now rises one with faintly rustling robes, And white hands search among the glistening keys. Out of the silence sounds are forming -- tones That seem to come from infinite distances, -- Soft trebles fluttering down like snowy doves Just dipping their swift wings in the deep bass That crumbles downward like a crumbling wave; And out of those low-gathering harmonies A voice arises, tangled in their maze, Then soaring up exultantly alone, While the accompaniment wails and complains. -- I am upon the seashore. 'T is the sound Of ocean, surging on against the land. That throbbing thunder is the roar of surf Beaten and broken on the frothy rocks. Those whispering trebles are the plashing waves That ripple up the smooth sand's slope, and kiss The tinkling shells with coy lips, quick withdrawn; And over all, the solitary voice Is the wind wandering on its endless quest. -- A change comes, in a crash of minor chords. I am a dreamer, waking from his dream Into the life to which our life is sleep. My soul is floating -- floating, till afar The round Earth rolls, with fleece of moonlit cloud, A globe of amber, gleaming as it goes. Deep in some hollow cavern of the sky All human life is pleading to its God. Still the accompaniment wails and complains; -- A wild confusion of entangled chords, Revenge, and fear, and strong men's agony, The shrill cry of despair, the slow, deep swell Of Time's long effort, sinking but to swell, While woman's lonely love, and childhood's faith Go wandering with soft whispers hand in hand. Suddenly from the ages one pure soul Is singled out to plead before the Throne; And then again the solitary voice Peals up among the stars from the great throng, Catching from out the storm all love, all hope, All loveliness of life, and utters it. Then the hushed music sobs itself to sleep, And all is still, -- save the reluctant sigh That tells the wakening from immortal dreams. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CAT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES TOMMY'S DEAD by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL HOW WE BURNED THE 'PHILADELPHIA' by BARRETT EASTMAN TO THE NIGHTINGALE by ANNE FINCH ADMONITION [TO A TRAVELLER] by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE ALBION QUEENS, ACT 1: THE WONDER by JOHN BANKS (17TH CENTURY-) |