Page:Fiddler's Farewell.djvu/99

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For the blithe hurricane?
Shiver, and gather closer these aphonous rags
Like a beggar's coat;
Shut the bland thunder out?

Acknowledge silence—
But what if there be none?
What if all sound go sounding on and on
Upon a loftier air,
The green note and its fellow
Roused to a greener loudness
Forever lifting there?

Let me declare
That music never dies;
That music never dies.
Let me in potent mood create
Of this my fantasy a faith,
A little paradise
Immaculate,
True as the tested string is true,
For all the lovely cries
Of all the violins—
And of mine too!
***
In time
A stranger with the supple fiddler's hand,
And the rapt eye
That sees the sound sublime,
Will come,

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