THE AEOLIAN HARP
What mysterious music is that?
Whence these softest melodies, soothing my inmost soul?
What symphony orchestra over the hills
Sends me its sweetest strains,
These chords of subdued sorrow mingled with joy of gentleness?
Or what angel deigns to float down to me
Such mild, musical waves,
Which captivate yet elude?
What or who and where?
The richest radio this, and the first, of the ascending years?
I ask myself, being alone, and I seek to answer.
I listen still.
My awakened soul is rising;
I look around, all around.
I continue to think, and very gently Truth appears.
What?
Yes, the winds, the winged winds, have joyfully yielded
To the goddess Harmony,
And together they are producing this matchless marvel.
My soul is at peace, yet longs for more,
More of such wooing of the eternally tender goddess,
Brought to me, with approval of Aeolius.