The Violin

(FROM 'THE NEW DAY') BEFORE the listening world behold him stand; The warm air trembles with his passionate play; Their cheers shower round him like the ocean spray Round one who waits upon the stormy strand. Their smiles, sighs, tears all are at his command; And now they hear the trump of judgment-day, And now one silver note to heaven doth stray And fluttering fall upon the golden sand. But like the murmur of the distant sea Their loud applause, and far off, faint, and weak Sounds his own music to him, wild and free — Far from the soul of music that doth speak In wordless wail and lyric ecstasy From that good viol pressed against his cheek.