Classic Poem

I stood upon the threshold; musical
Reverberant footsteps ghostlike came and went,
And my lips trembled as magnificent
Before me rose a vision of that hall
Whereof great Milton is the mighty wall,
Shakespeare the dome with incense redolent,
Each latter singer precious ornament,
And Holy Writ the groundwork, bearing all.

" Lord, " sobbed I, " take Thy splendid gift of youth
For the one boon that I have craved so long:
Mould Thou my stammering accents and uncouth,
With awful music raise and make me strong;
A living martyr of Thy vocal truth,
A resonant column in the House of Song! "