| |
| WHEN stars pursue their solemn flight, | |
| Oft in the middle of the night, | |
| A strain of music visits me, | |
| Hushed in a moment silverly,— | |
| Such rich and rapturous strains as make | 5 |
| The very soul of silence ache | |
| With longing for the melody; | |
| |
| Or lovers in the distant dusk | |
| Of summer gardens, sweet as musk, | |
| Pouring the blissful burden out, | 10 |
| The breaking joy, the dying doubt; | |
| Or revellers, all flown with wine, | |
| And in a madness half divine, | |
| Beating the broken tune about; | |
| |
| Or else the rude and rolling notes | 15 |
| That leave some strolling sailors’ throats, | |
| Hoarse with the salt sprays, it may be, | |
| Of many a mile of rushing sea; | |
| Or some high-minded dreamer strays | |
| Late through the solitary ways, | 20 |
| Nor heeds the listening night, nor me. | |
| |
| Or how or whence those tones be heard, | |
| Hearing, the slumbering soul is stirred, | |
| As when a swiftly passing light | |
| Startles the shadows into flight; | 25 |
| While one remembrance suddenly | |
| Thrills through the melting melody,— | |
| A strain of music in the night. | |
| |
| Out of the darkness burst the song, | |
| Into the darkness moves along: | 30 |
| Only a chord of memory jars, | |
| Only an old wound burns its scars, | |
| As the wild sweetness of the strain | |
| Smites the heart with passionate pain, | |
| And vanishes among the stars. | 35 |
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