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Excerpt from The Crucibles of Time: And Other Poems
Ode to Music
Firstling of Days, begotten not nor shaped;
Breath of the spacious God that knows not Time,
And is for vesture with Creation draped
Effulgent and transcendent, sprung from Him
In eloquence sonorous thro' the vast
Of ebon desolation void and dim;
Boding His lonely plaint
To the far borders faint
Of an immeasurable infinitude;
Finding for Him bright galaxies sublime
To lift to ecstasy His lofty mood
In hoary ages past:
Voice of his Soul I strew
Before thine aery path my tribute true!
Oh, art not thou pure spirit of all thought,
Soul of the Universe, the lustrous heart
Whence burst the secret harmony divine
That wrought to aweful splendour Life's frail mart?
All the celestial court
In legioned wonder, wrought
To sudden beauty by thine ancient art,
Echoes thy voice mellifluous and benign
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