| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
| |
| 912. The Cello |
| | | By Richard Watson Gilder |
| |
| |
| WHEN late I heard the trembling cello play, | |
| In every face I read sad memories | |
| That from dark, secret chambers where they lay | |
| Rose, and looked forth from melancholy eyes. | |
| So every mournful thought found there a tone | 5 |
| To match despondence: sorrow knew its mate; | |
| Ill fortune sighed, and mute despair made moan; | |
| And one deep chord gave answer, “Late,—too late.” | |
| Then ceased the quivering strain, and swift returned | |
| Into its depths the secret of each heart; | 10 |
| Each face took on its mask, where lately burned | |
| A spirit charmed to sight by music’s art; | |
| But unto one who caught that inner flame | |
| No face of all can ever seem the same. | |
| |
|
|
|
