Poems (Denver)/The Hand that touched the Keys
THE HAND THAT TOUCHED THE KEYS.
The hand that touched the keys when first Thought into being stole,And like a gush of music burst Harmonious o'er my soul, I bless it, for the power it gave To turn the past to joy, And in its present vigor brave The griefs that would destroy.
A universe whose every space With melodies abound; A language written on each face, Made eloquent with sound; A beauty in each timid flower That loves the morning-breeze; It showed me in one little hour— The hand that touched the keys.
A feeling that the world was mine And I was heaven's alone; A wish to kneel at every shrine Built to the Great Unknown; A spirit meek as love's, nor less Omnipotent to please; O! be it God's or man's, I bless The hand that touched the keys.