Classic Poem

O THOSE sweet notes, so soft and faint; that seemed
Locked up inside a thick-walled house of stone;
And then that sudden rush of sound, as though
The doors and windows were wide-open thrown.

Do with me, O sweet music, as thou wilt,
I am thy slave to either laugh or weep;
Thy power can make thy slave a lover proud,
Or friendless man that has no place to sleep.

I hear thy gentle whisper and again
Hear ripples lap the quays of sheltered docks;
I hear thy thunder and it brings to mind
Dark Colorado scaling his huge rocks.

I hear thy joyous cries and think of birds
Delirious when the sun doth rise in May;
I hear thy moans and think me of poor cows
That miss at night the calves they licked by day.

I hear thee wail and think of that sad queen
Who saw her lover's disappearing mast;
How she, who drank and wasted a rich pearl —
To prove her love — was left to wail at last.

Do with me, O sweet Music, as thou wilt;
Till even thou art robbed by jealous Sleep
Of those sweet senses thou hast forced from me —
And I can neither laugh with thee nor weep.