More light than the Sun; I am blinded,
Sink, tremble, am lost in the sea. |
The voice of thy singing descended,
Rolled round me and wrapped me in mist,
Some sense of thy being, borne splendid ;
I dreamed, I desired, I was kissed.
Some breath from thy music hath bound me ;
Some tune from thy lyre hath found me.
Thy words are as rushing of fire;
But I know not the lilt of thy lyre :—
Thy voice is as deep as the sea;
Thy music is darkness to me.
Str. B
CALLIOPE
Child of Thracian sire, on me begotten,
Knowest thou not the laughter and the life?
Knowest thou not how all things are forgotten,
Being with a maiden wife?
How a subtle sense of inmost being
Wraps thee in, and cuts the world away ;
Sight and sound lose hearing and lose seeing,
All the night is one with all the day?
Hearken to her sighing!
Life droops down as dying,
Melting in the clasp of amorous limbs and hair ;
All the darkening world
Round about ye furled—
Dost thou know, or, knowing, dost thou care?
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