MUSIC.

The soul of love is harmony; as such

All melodies, that with wide pinions beat

Elastic bars, which mew it in the flesh,

Till‘ twould away to kiss their throats and cling,

Are kindred to the soul, and while they sway,

Lords of its action molding all at will.

Ah! neither was I I, nor knew the clay,

For all my soul lay on full waves of song

Reverberating‘ twixt the earth and moon.

O soft complaints, that haunted all the heart

With dreams of love long cherished, love dreams found

On sunset mountains gorgeous toward the West:

Kisses — soft kisses bartered‘ mid pale buds

Of bursting Springs; and vows of fondest faith

Kept evermore; and eyes whose witchery

Might lure old saints down to the lowest hell

For one swift glance,— sweet, melancholy eyes

Yet full of hope and dimming o'er with tears,

Stooping and gloating in a silver mist

At Care's thin brow, and growing at his eyes.

Voices of expectation rolling on

To diapason of a mighty choir,

‘ Mid ever-swooning throbbings beating low,

Wove in hoarse fabric thunders — and O soul!

Wafted to caverns lost by hideous seas,

One with the tumult‘ neath o'ercircling tiers

White with strange diamond spars and feathery gems.

O holy music, wailing down long aisles

To lose thyself‘ neath arched welkins dashed

With moons of crystal;— dying, dying down

To passionate sobs, and then a silence vast,

Vast as thy caves, or as the human soul,

Oppressing all this being bulked in flesh

Until it strained to burst its bounds and soar.

Harp-tones! that shaped before the poised mind

The home of Sleep far on a moonlit isle.

White Sleep, who from heaped myriad poppies weighed

With baby slumbers, and from violet beds,

Culled whiter dreams to fold against her heart

In dewy clusters sparkling wet with tears;

And on her shadowy pinions soaring high

Winged‘ neath the vault into oblivion,

With all the echoes panting at pale feet

To kiss the dreams, and o'er deep, wine-dark waves,

Far, far away, lost — and a sound of stars

Streaming from burning sockets into night

About my soul, about my soul like fire.

Oh, then what agony and bitter woe,

Regret and noise of desolation vast

As when all that one loves is torn away

Forever with “farewell forevermore!”

Oh, strife and panic and the rush of winds,

Moist ashen brows with raven tresses torn

That plunged against the bursting bolts of God,

That ploughed the tempest curst with deepest night;

Ruin and heartache, moans and demon eyes,

Fierce, bestial eyes that cursed at very God;

Then blinding tears that wept for such and prayed,

Tears blistering all the soul in haunting eyes,

Eyes such as Death would fear to ponder on!

Then dolorous bell-beats, battle as for light,

Folds of oblivion, gaspings, silence, death.