  Thou master! deftly as Nature herself, Awakes yon sleeping bud in early spring, E’en neath thy gentler, guileless touch, methinks A soul opes wide, ’tis Music’s wakening. Thou, shapen in clay, art by Heav’n moulded, Thru thee I sense both human and divine, This, God’s gift, within thyself enfolded, Pervades the air my spirit breathes of thine. Bear me afar, beyond majestic portal, Down loyal Art’s lost corridor of Time, Human-hearted soul, echo immortal, Lead thou me inspired by living notes sublime. |
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