THE VIOLIN

By Edward Smyth Jones

Thrice hail the still unconquered King of Song!

For all adore and love the Master Art

That reareth his throne in temple of the heart;

And smiteth chords of passion full and strong

Till music sweet allures the sorrowing throng!

Then by the gentle curving of his bow

Maketh every mellow note in cadence flow,

To recompense the world of all its wrong.

Although the earth is full of cares and throes

That tempt the crimson stream of life to cloy,

Thou mak'st glad hearts and trip'st “fantastic toes,”

And fillest weary souls with mirth and joy —

The soul-entrancing cadence of thy strings

Proclaims thee Song's unconquered “King of kings”!