XVI. Helena Modjeska
As we hear the nocturne rising once more,
Flowing through unseen hands caressingly,
The power of music rifts our apathy.
Unvoiced longings, uncharted hopes--the store
Youth yields to age, rise in the heart's deep core.
Song phrasings linger still and certainly
We follow up the strain and memory
Recalls the way that love once sang its lore.
Then the recurring cadence rose supreme
Above life's jangled strains and so it grew
To dominate the perfect arc, the heart
Declared high festival, part real, part dream.
And now there sounds a beat, the artist knew
While faint and fainter sounds the singing part.