Classic Poem

The Harp was silent in the chamber
Where there danced the wavering shadow,
Shadow of the flute-player,
Fitful as the fall of water
Dreaming—
Then the shadow of the viol
Stole upon the people's faces,
Played with fainter, fainter shadows
Of the day beyond, the day of sky and street,
Of illimitable airy shining,
Walls and Pinnacles and Clouds
Dreaming on the pavement.


No wind but only light reflected
On the ivory walls and ceiling,
And the globes of porphyry
Silently and softly shining,
And the shadow-fountain flute,
Rippling, murmuring and lolling
There amid white, dreamy faces—


Gazing on the scenery
Of the viol,
In a land enchanted, weary,
In a land of beauty disillusioned
The Harp began.
Its music was as is the song of jasmine
Slender and faint among the dark of trees,
Winding a stair
From the dark earth towards the cold white stars.
And whiter than the stars the arms of her
That plucked the strings and gazed into her soul,
Where all the trees of the round earth were clustered
Whose Foliage,
Heavy and calm leaf-hammered thunder, filled
That silver mirror lying in the world!


Gaze on into your soul, O Harp-player,
Those trees that weep,
Those flowers that twining hang
Dream-faces vapour-crumbling in blind woods
Are mirrored there, and in that land we gaze!

O bright thy soul thou Moon of quicksilver!
Lovely the falling shadow of the flute,
Amid the viol's quiet scenery!