Cambridge Poets 1900–1913

E . N . DA C . ANDRADE. * THE VIOLIN . IF there be soul in wood and strings 1 To humour thus the quiet night , If matter dead so strives , and sings Such glory, with such transitory , Spontaneous , tremulous sounds attesting , With cadences like rose leaves shed When keen sweet winds disperse delight, Radiance revealing, rising , resting , Declining , drooping , dying, dead . Impetuous to rise again Like fire , like wild fire 's flaming flakes , Like high -hurled spray on moon - lit main , Like a fountain throwing liquid light , Bearing such joy to such a height , Scattering delight in such swift shakes , Lending desire such subtle wings All this the simple wood and strings With human hand to guide it, makes . What sounds should I, so complex more , Constructed with such artifice , So full of wonder and device , Surrounded with such happy store Of miracle to celebrate , New visions sprung with each new date , Of fields unknown , and paths untrod , What sounds should I then resonate Beneath the urgent hand of God ?