DURING MUSIC: FANTASY AND FUGUE.

I. That low-breathed air and inwoven melody, Twined marvellously together, swift to run To the farthest bound of song, or knit in one To melt and glow in o’erwhelming harmony, You played. And I, startled to fantasy, Beheld a land of dishevelled wood and stream, A desperate rally of men, a flash, a scream— And a friend riven beyond all agony. Yet did you play. Each delicate, rival thread Of sound was knotted at last and the music ended. Forest, colour, and mountain, earth held none But stunted woods with no companion tread, Greyness, and little hills, in a life unfriended; For all joy in things and love of them were gone. II. I heard those echoing tones your touch unpenned, Now hammer-notes that rivetted life with love, Now light as sou’west wind blown softly above; But all you played only to him could tend. So let it be, I said, until life’s end; In the tinkling wash at the bows, or water lapping All night upon the dinghy’s side, or tapping Of light wind in the halyards; there is my friend. So did your unrelenting notes flit by, While death and music in my thought were welded To swing me lonely down to the loveless night. I am a sail that wind takes wantonly Because the sheet has carried away that held it— Then let your fugue pursue its scornful flight!