  Sound, O Harp of Being, set Deathless in the winds of time! All thine ancient part forget, Wailing lust, and strife, and crime! Clouds of hate are now sweet rain: Thou shall never moan again. Harp of Being, O forget Hesper dead that played on thee, All her golden fingers wet With the blood of misery! Morning sweeps along thy strings; Thou art done with yester things. Bright thou art with drops that fell Watering earth's long-buried Spring; Thou hast quivered safe through Hell Where Love found immortal wing; Joy to hallowed Bacchanals! Harp of Dawn, forget, forget! Sound thee of the hours now come When the vine and violet Bind to earth the fallen drum. Palsied as a dying star Fails the shaken torch of war! From each pennoned pinnacle Of the cities of the free, Clasped in time invisible, Flows the wonder flown to thee; Thou so swift to throb and start With the singing earth's new heart! By the light that sets mind free, By the night that once it wore, By the soul man is to be, By the beast he is no more; By thy past, unmeasured pain, Thou shalt never moan again. |
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