Thursday, August 5, 2010
The Poem For The Organist
For those of you who may not know, I am studying to become an organist. Although when I was in high school I vowed that I would never become an old lady church organist, that is now my current life plan. What happened? I realized the beauty and complexity of this, the King of Musical Instruments (in the words of Pope Benedict XVI). It is an incredibly intimidating creature, but once mastered, its tones can strike awe and fear into the most brazen of souls, but it can also soothe the qualms of those souls weary of the burdens of this world. Anyway, this is my poem.
The Lost Chord
By Adelaide A. Procter
Seated one day at the Organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys.
I do not know what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then ;
But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen.
It flooded the crimson twilight,
Like the close of an Angel's Psalm,
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife ;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.
It linked all perplexéd meanings
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence
As if it were loth to cease.
I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the Organ,
And entered into mine.
It may be that Death's bright angel
Will speak in that chord again,
It may be that only in Heaven
I shall hear that grand Amen.