Classic Poem

A certain Chopin prelude once I heard.
Strive as I may to tell, no mortal word
Can all-express that music. Like a bird
My soul went up the blue — the sweetest pain,
The deepest passion, love without a stain,
A high and holy yearning that had lain
Buried, did come in a white company,
In tremulous procession, unto me.
For an immortal moment I was free
Of the flesh, and leaped in spirit and was strong
With beauty, shaken by magic of that song.