During Music – Dante Gabriel Rossetti

O COOL unto the sense of pain 

That last night’s sleep could not destroy; 

O warm unto the sense of joy, 

That dreams its life within the brain. 

What though I lean o’er thee to scan 

The written music cramped and stiff;— 

‘Tis dark to me, as hieroglyph 

On those weird bulks Egyptian. 

But as from those, dumb now and strange, 

A glory wanders on the earth, 

Even so thy tones can call a birth 

From these, to shake my soul with change. 

O swift, as in melodious haste 

Float o’er the keys thy fingers small; 

O soft, as is the rise and fall 

Which stirs that shade within thy breast.

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