  THE lights grow dim. There comes a hush. Then swiftly in a mighty rush As of great waters, over me Break the slow surges of the symphony. With a vast sweep majestical Like emerald waves that topling fall In foam, far off and faint begins The swelling beauty of the violins. Silence. On some far beach I’ve heard The high sweet keening of a bird. Now all the instruments are mute But the rich music of a lonely flute. Once more the wave is poised to break, Once more the wind-swept water shake My soul; and in this harmony I know the splendour of the trampling sea. |
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