Music.
(Translated from the French of Sully Prud’homme.)
Oh ! from all words refrain,1
You who will tend me when I strive for breath ;2
Let me but hear some well-remembered strain3
Of music, and serene shall be my death.4
For music soothes and charms,5
Gently unlinks the chains that bind us here ;6
Lull but my anguish softly, in the arms7
Of tender music cradled ; speak not, dear.8
Weary am I of words,9
Weary of hearing that which may conceal10
Its inner heart ; best love I those deep chords11
I need not understand, but only feel ;12
A melody, wherein13
The soul may be absorbed in depths so vast14
That out of fevered ravings I may win15
Calm dreams, and out of dreaming, death at last.16