The Power of Music

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.