Perplexed Music



    Experience, like a pale musician, holds
    A dulcimer of patience in his hand,
    Whence harmonies, we cannot understand,
    Of God; will in his worlds, the strain unfolds
    In sad-perplexed minors: deathly colds
    Fall on us while we hear, and countermand
    Our sanguine heart back from the fancyland
    With nightingales in visionary wolds.
    We murmur' Where is any certain tune
    Or measured music in such notes as these?'
    But angels, leaning from the golden seat,
    Are not so minded their fine ear hath won
    The issue of completed cadences,
    And, smiling down the stars, they whisper sweet.


facebook share button twitter share button google plus share button tumblr share button reddit share button email share button share on pinterest pinterest

Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add Perplexed Music to your own personal library.

Return to the Elizabeth Barrett Browning Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Rosalind's Scroll

Anton Chekhov
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
Kate Chopin
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson