Afflict my spirit, and I late return
To take my wonted sleep, yet can I not
Pillow my weary head till I have heard
The musical heart-strings of some master poet
Vibrate in trembling unison with mine own.
More loved than sage or statesman must he be
Who leaves his tender melodies behind
To teach a joy and sorrow more divine
Than what we daily feel, - whose sympathy
Doth warm the very marrow of our bones
What time we gaze in doubting and mistrust
Into the mysteries of life and death.
W. P. E.