The Music of Dvorák
Each slender sinuous body, spell-bound, thrilled
With triumph in its last, most perfect pose . . .
Each lovely head thrown back, as in a trance
Immovable they stand in glittering rows.
······
With triumph in its last, most perfect pose . . .
Each lovely head thrown back, as in a trance
Immovable they stand in glittering rows.
······
Silence and darkness! . . . was it then a dream?
Entangled in the passionate mystery
And magic of your music, which to me
Is ever as the shadow of soft wings
Shutting away all sense of sordid things,
All sight of that inscrutable Sphinx called "Life"
. . . So weary souls drift vision-ward, and see,
Looking between the heavy lids of sleep,
Reflections of themselves as they might be!
Entangled in the passionate mystery
And magic of your music, which to me
Is ever as the shadow of soft wings
Shutting away all sense of sordid things,
All sight of that inscrutable Sphinx called "Life"
. . . So weary souls drift vision-ward, and see,
Looking between the heavy lids of sleep,
Reflections of themselves as they might be!
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