Classic Poem

(To a Dead Musician)

Beyond the blue, beyond the red,
The waves of ether, fast and slow,
Against our eyelids vainly beat,
Vainly atween our eyelids flow;
And yet to the clairvoyant dead
What various colours they may show!

The colour of translucent thoughts,
Of golden dreams, and silver sighs,
The crimson of a human heart
That, ever-loving, never dies,
The blue of the forget-me-nots
That live in God's immortal eyes.

Beyond the billows of the air
That bring the sounds of every day,
Ten thousand tiny ripples dance,
Ten thousand little currents play,
Whereby the dead become aware
What words the silent roses say,

And learn the secret of a star,
And catch the breathing of the Spring,
And hear above the scythe of Death
The disembodied spirits sing,
And God's eternal heart afar,
Like a loud ocean thundering.

O thou, whose human eyes were bright,
Whose human ears were quick and keen,
Thrice-happy Friend whom Death hath crowned,
Of what new country art thou Queen?
Ah me, what music and what light
Hast thou in heaven heard and seen?

In life thy violin could shake
The silence to a living voice,
And with a few vibrating strings
Could make the sullen air rejoice,
And love or pity could awake,
According to thy spirit's choice.

New seas of sound thou couldst create,
And with their waves thy soul fulfil;
The slightest flutter of thy hand
Would make the welkin throb and thrill.
Oh, it was good to be so great
And witch the air to do thy will!

But Death thy mundane music stole,
And bore thee through the dark away.
And now what psaltery or harp
In highest heaven dost thou play?
What currents can thy living soul
By its commotion move and sway?

I know not; but I know thou hast
New notes and chords at thy command,
And tempests of thy soul can stir
High waves that never knew thy hand;
And harmonies divine and vast,
Thy quickening heart can understand.

And lo, the ether ripples gleam
As novel colours rich and rare,
Until thy spirit-eyes discern
Beings like gods with faces fair,
Clad in the glory of a dream,
Crowned with the halo of a prayer.

Nay, even as a music note
Once made the air to ebb and flow,
So has the ether now become
Obedient to thy hand and bow,
And from thy lyric lips and throat
Sunbeams and moonbeams come and go.

Light is the singing of the sun,
And likewise singing thou canst sway
The waves of ether as thou wilt,
And waken dawn and kindle day,
And redden roses one by one,
And with the lurid lightning play.

In the Beginning was the Word.
God made the world of melody, —
His Laughter grew a laughing star:
His Breathing branched into a tree:
His Whispering became a bird:
His Thunder made the moaning sea.

And so thy shuttle-bow can spin
Golden and silvern, green and blue,
Making the ether leap and dance,
As stars, and suns, and flowers, and dew.
Meseems thy voice and violin
Can weave, and form the world anew.

So do we dream of what thou art,
With keener ears and clearer eyes,
Yet love thee as thou wert of yore,
Gracious, and fair, and sweet, and wise.
And to the sorrow in our heart
Thy gentle, human voice replies.