Stradivarius — (To Jascha Heifetz)
If power were only given me,
To paint the tone picture that arises from the soul
Of that sanctuary of sound—your violin,
Where would I find pigment worthy of such a use,
Save in the fleeting splendour of some sky.
Where a brush—save in a snowy feather
From the shining wing of an archangel.
Where the canvas—save across the dream memory of one who heard
And was blessed by the hearing.