6/16 Thou art OF that music,--its spirit, its genius. My father must have guessed at thee and thy native regions, when the winds hushed to listen to his tones, and the world deemed him mad! I hear where I sit, the far murmur of the sea. Murmur on, ye blessed waters! The waves are the pulses of the shore. They beat with the gladness of the morning wind,--so beats my heart in the freshness and light that make up the thoughts of thee! .... I know why the world of the stage charmed and dazzled me. |