Harmonies (Howe collection)/Harmonies
For works with similar titles, see Harmonies.
HARMONIES
Strange instrument of many strings
For men to play on, slaves and kings,
Let me but keep thee, Life, in tune,
That fall what may, by night or noon,
Still in the heart shall sing for me
One clear and constant melody.
For men to play on, slaves and kings,
Let me but keep thee, Life, in tune,
That fall what may, by night or noon,
Still in the heart shall sing for me
One clear and constant melody.
Too oft the clamor and the strife
Of living quench the notes of life;
Too oft they lose their customed way,
In alien sequences to stray.
Yet ever stealing back, they fall
Into the cadence sought through all.
Of living quench the notes of life;
Too oft they lose their customed way,
In alien sequences to stray.
Yet ever stealing back, they fall
Into the cadence sought through all.
Then grief and gladness, love and pain
Blend all their harmonies again;
The heavens uplift a shining arch
Spacious above the soul's brave march:
If I but keep thee, night and noon,
Ever and truly, Life, in tune—
Strange instrument of many strings
For slaves to play on, and for kings.
Blend all their harmonies again;
The heavens uplift a shining arch
Spacious above the soul's brave march:
If I but keep thee, night and noon,
Ever and truly, Life, in tune—
Strange instrument of many strings
For slaves to play on, and for kings.