To Music
“Music, the language, the atmosphere of the Soul.”
Fly back where Melodies like lilies grow,
My weary heart is bending low;
Fly higher yet to joyful realms above,
Where holy Angels dwell in love.
Fly higher still and hear the Angel throng
And bring to me their Glory-song:
Ah Music, thou and I above the World
May dwell where heaven with shining song is pearled!
While Sun and Moon and all the planets roll
I’ll love thee, Music, language of my soul!
Music-lark from on high, song that doth fly,
Spark of the sky!
MAUDE GORDON-ROBY