Classic Poem

When music was made I listened,
For sounds were no longer sound,
But green and silver glistened
Where leaves and dew were found.
And the sweet sounds trembling together
Were flakes of unsounding snow,
Or faded leaves in a weather
Of windy ebb and flow.

When music is made I never
Shall see such things again;
For never shall I dissever
Loveliness now from pain
Your lips and your eyes will haunt me,
As light is haunted by shade,
And the thing that has not been taunt me,
Now when music is made.