18. Ode to the Joy of Music
By JH Sayyar
1
O spirit veiled in sound! Thou airy Power,
That rides the breeze on golden-throated lyres,
And steal from silence, like a fragrant flower
That blooms unseen, yet all the grove inspires
How soft thy step upon the soul’s green lawn,
How swift thy pulse when rosy youth is drawn
To dance beneath the moon’s ethereal gaze,
Wherein thy whispers set the heart ablaze!
2
Thou child of Phoebus, born of breath and fire,
Immortal Muse! Thou dost in measure dwell,
Yet art unchained by earthly rule or lyre
Thou speak where even Sappho dared not tell
Thy dwelling is the hush betwixt night and morn,
When dreaming minds in honeyed sleep are borne,
And starry chords through closed eyelids gleam,
To light the eye within the inward dream
3
Wherefore dost thou, when April boughs are green,
Make even the thrush seem priest of holier things?
Or in the hush of winter’s solemn scene,
Why doth thy song burst forth on hidden wings?
It is not thou to weep, nor wholly cheer,
But through all moods thy magic makes them clear;
Thou dost not ask, but answer with a tone
And men are less afraid to die, alone.
4
For thou canst lift the brow from weight of time,
And bid the world dissolve in cadenced air;
One note from thee and all things seem sublime
The dust forgets its grave, the worn its care.
Old lovers weep to hear thy aching strain,
And youths are flushed with hopes they can't contain;
Thou build a bridge betwixt sorrow and delight,
And crown the dusk with coronets of light
5
Hark!—somewhere now a violin doth sigh,
And somewhere deep a drum begins to roll;
The organ swells, the choir lifts up the sky
All is made whole within thy sweet control.
O Music! Though, thy form we cannot bind,
Thy presence is the heartbeat of mankind;
And when the stars fall silent, dark, and blue
Still shall thy echo sing the world anew!
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