Classic Poem

A storm of rare and unimagined sweetness —
Accumulated treasure of the past
Comes sweeping down the avenues and vistas
Of unremembered aeons old and vast.

Prodigious energies and pent emotions,
Till now unuttered through the ages long,
Have burst in music through the ancient flood-gates,
Descending like an avalanche of song.

The phantom pains of prehistoric passions,
The toilsome struggle up the hills of strife,
Weird shades of old heredities awakened,
Teem down the years and through the gates of life.

Thus music, like a mystic incantation,
Calls up time-spectres in a ghostly throng,
And with a voice of love and power transcendent,
Encompasses the centuries in a song.

Or, like the sound of many distant waters
When deep to deep across the ages calls,
The subtle thrill and pathos of great music
Uplift the soul where'er its cadence falls.

It gathers tones of tender thought and feeling
And blends them into one harmonious whole —
Eternal chords of perfect rest and healing,
The surf-line music of the sea of soul.