POEM:

 

When  music  sounds,  gone  is  the  earth  I  know,

And  all  her  lovely  things  even  lovelier  grow;

Her  flowers  in  vision  flame,  her  forest  trees

Lift  burdened  branches,  stilled  with  ecstasies.

 

When  music  sounds,  out  of  the  water  rise

Naiads  whose  beauty  dims  my  waking  eyes,

Rapt  in  strange  dreams  burns  each  enchanted  face,

With  solemn  echoing  stirs  their  dwelling-place.

 

When  music  sounds,  all  that  I  was  I  am

Ere  to  this  haunt  of  brooding  dust  I  came;

And  from  Time's  woods  break  into  distant  song

The  swift-winged  hours,  as  I  hasten  along.