Part 2 — SONNET.
Reading edition
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BY W. W. STORY.
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The human voice!—oh, instrument divine,
That with a subtle and mysterious art
Rangest the diapason of the heart—
The mighty scale of passion all is thine—
Thine air-spun net around the soul doth twine,
Whether the heart of thousands lifts, as one,
The wild, deep anthem of its monotone,
Or the soft voice of Love its silver line
Threads through the spirit’s innermost recess.
Thou mouldest the blank air, that round thee lies
To a rare tissue of fine mysteries;
Thou canst lift up the soul and canst depress—
And upon Music’s balanced wings canst fly
Straight through the gates of Hope and Memory.