When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows; Like harmony in music there is a dark; Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles; Discordant elements.
Soft is the music that would charm forever The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.
Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories