Music Unheard

Sweet sounds, begone—
   Whose music on my ear
Stirs foolish discontent
   Or lingering here;
When, if I crossed
   The crystal verge of death,
Him I should see.
   Who these sounds murmureth.

Sweet sounds, begone—
   Ask not my heart to break
Its bond of bravery for
   Sweet quiet’s sake;
Lure not my feet
   To leave the path they must
Tread on, unfaltering,
   Till I sleep in dust.

Sweet sounds, begone!
   Though silence brings apace
Deadly disquiet
   Of this homeless place;
And all I love
   In beauty cries to me,
“We but vain shadows
   And reflections be.”

Ω

Editor’s Corner

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