4657462Poems — After the ConcertMarion Vienna Churchill Dudley
AFTER THE CONCERT.
THE music still throbbed in the arches, And thrilled in the hearts of the throng; Like echoes from old battle marches Or dreams in the drift of a song;
The night was as dark as a sorrow That knows never respite or cheer; The rain bode a sunless to-morrow And everything outward was drear:
Still music within us kept sobbing, A quivering pleasure and pain; The notes of the orchestra throbbing In time with the wavering rain.
A light in the door downward flashing, Through darkness and rain-drops and mist, Lent glory to gloom, and the clashing Great throng was too gay to resist
Its charm; all the faces grew sweeter And fairer; and richer the tones Of voices; and brighter, completer The glances that nobody owns.
Aladdin's good lamp in the story Wrought never a wonder so rare, For rain-drops transfigured with glory, Hung poised in the shimmering air,
Like notes of the music that trembles On bars that the angels prolong, When rapture with mortals assembles, And hearts beat the time of the song.
Brave light in a vanishing portal; Gay throng on the rim of a dream; Your beauty is music immortal That sings through my sadness unseen.
