Classic Poem

TO sit with downward listening, and crossed knee,
Half conscious, half unconscious, of the throng
Of fellow-ears, and hear the well-met skill
Of fine musicians,—the glib ivory
Twinkling with numerous prevalence,—the snatch
Of brief and birdy flute, that leaps apart,—
Giddy violins, that do whate'er they please,—
And sobering all with circling manliness,
The bass, uprolling deep and voluble;—
Well may the sickliest thought, that keeps its home
In a sad heart, give gentle way for once,
And quitting its pain-anchored hold, put forth
On that sweet sea of many-billowed sound,
Floating and floating in a dreamy lapse,
Like a half-sleeper in a summer boat,
Till heaven seems near, and angels travelling by.

For not the notes alone, or new-found air,
Or structure of elaborate harmonies,
With steps that to the waiting treble climb,
Suffice a true-touched ear. To that will come
Out of the very vagueness of the joy
A shaping and a sense of things beyond us,
Great things and voices great: nor will it reckon
Sounds, that so wake up the fond-hearted air,
To be the unmeaning raptures they are held,
Or mere suggestions of our human feeling,
Sorrow, or mirth, or triumph. Infinite things
There are, both small and great, whose worth were lost
On us alone,—the flies with lavish plumes,—
The starry-showering snow,—the tints and shapes
That hide about the flowers,—gigantic trees,
That crowd for miles up mountain solitudes,
As on the steps of some great natural temple,
To view the godlike sun:—nor have the clouds
Only one face, but on the side of heaven
Keep ever gorgeous beds of golden light.

Part then alone we hear, as part we see;
And in this music, lovely things of air
May find a sympathy of heart or tongue,
Which shook perhaps the master, when he wrote,
With what he knew not,—meanings exquisite.—
Thrillings, that have their answering chords in heaven,—
Perhaps a language well-tuned hearts shall know
In that blest air, and thus in pipe and string
Left by angelic mouths to lure us thither.