Music at the Villa Marina
FOR some abiding central source of power,Strong-smitten steady chords, ye seem to flowAnd, flowing, carry virtue. Far below,The vain tumultuous passions of the hourFleet fast and disappear; and as the sunShines on the wake of tempests, there is castO'er all the shattered ruins of my pastA strong contentment as of battles won.
And yet I cry in anguish, as I hearThe long drawn pageant of your passage rollMagnificently forth into the night.To yon fair land ye come from, to yon sphereOf strength and love where now ye shape your flight,O even wings of music, bear my soul!
Ye have the power, if but ye had the will,Strong-smitten steady chords in sequence grand,To bear me forth into that tranquil landWhere good is no more ravelled up with ill;Where she and I, remote upon some hillOr by some quiet river's windless strand,May live, and love, and wander hand in hand,And follow nature simply, and be still.
From this grim world, where, sadly, prisoned, weSit bound with others' heart-strings as with chains,And, if one moves, all suffer, - to that Goal,If such a land, if such a sphere, there be,Thither, from life and all life's joys and pains,O even wings of music, bear my soul!
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