The Waiting Instrument
I blame no man for failure here, for he
Who wins no crown is like an instrument
That silent waits the Master's touch to free
The noble numbers that within are pent.
Untouched and unawake, and still it stands,
Despite the glorious measures it contains—
Who knows but that in those diviner lands
'Twill swell the songs of Heaven with its strains?
Who wins no crown is like an instrument
That silent waits the Master's touch to free
The noble numbers that within are pent.
Untouched and unawake, and still it stands,
Despite the glorious measures it contains—
Who knows but that in those diviner lands
'Twill swell the songs of Heaven with its strains?
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.