Poems (Follen)/Upon hearing the Musical Glasses
UPON HEARING THE MUSICAL GLASSES.
It did not seem like human art:
It seemed the language of the heart,
When joy or sorrow wake at will
The trembling chords, with magic skill;
So soft, so distant, so sadly sweet,
Like sounds when parted spirits meet.
Like a pure thought it gently stole,
And fell like hope upon the soul—
Not hope that rests on earthly things,
But that which peace and pardon brings;
Mingling tears and humble sorrow,
With the promise of the morrow.
It seemed the language of the heart,
When joy or sorrow wake at will
The trembling chords, with magic skill;
So soft, so distant, so sadly sweet,
Like sounds when parted spirits meet.
Like a pure thought it gently stole,
And fell like hope upon the soul—
Not hope that rests on earthly things,
But that which peace and pardon brings;
Mingling tears and humble sorrow,
With the promise of the morrow.