Oh, may I never be melancholy
When I hear sweet music; like poetry
The silver sound rolls over my rich ears
Like tide over a many-pebbled shore.
As with my poetry, I try to catch
A single shining note within my brain.
But each one, floating by, evades my grasp.
Strike, harp and dulcimer; let voices raise;
Let the music ring out from hill to sky–
Let song answer song, back and forth again,
‘Till all forget the sound of noise.
Let the silence of the spheres be broken
Only by music of the earth’s people
And of the heavenlies with their fair folk.
(Did anyone catch the allusion to The Merchant of Venice? Crossposted to my wiki. Like my last post, this is this poem’s first appearance in public, though it probably is at least two or three years old. As always, comments, questions, concerns, criticism, suggestions (especially for a real title or what to post next), or other feedback are welcomed and greatly appreciated.)