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(Died March 28, 1898) NOT from his throat there came | |
A magic sequence of melodious sound, | |
Like tongues of living flame | |
That fire the sense and soul and all around | |
Shed gleams from heaven. The sway he wielded long | 5 |
Was not the power of song. | |
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Not with the plaintive reed, | |
Beloved of Pan and sylven deities, | |
Nor with the hopes that plead | |
Through strings that quiver into harmonies, | 10 |
Hath he his triumphs won; not his that sign | |
Of mastery divine. | |
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Not from creative thought | |
Into the faded festival of Time | |
Hath he fresh wonders brought. | 15 |
No glorious ode nor symphony sublime | |
Sprang from his brain: the mystery of Art | |
He felt but in his heart. | |
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And from that heart there fell | |
On others hands and voices and the soul | 20 |
Of the great world a spell | |
That the decrees of fate could not control | |
Nor the wild events of life: the misery | |
Ceased for a while to be. | |
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The Masters came again, | 25 |
Back rolled the ages: care and folly fled | |
Immortal Beautys reign, | |
O, not in vain in him that now lies dead | |
Was born that mighty spirit at whose breath | |
Genius awakes from death! | 30 |
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