STRIKE me a note of sweet degrees —
Of sweet degrees —
Like those in Jewry heard of old ;
My love, if thou wouldst wholly please,
Hold in thy hand a harp of gold,
And touch the strings with fingers light
And yet with strength as David might —
As David might.
Linger not long in songs of love —
In songs of love;
No serenades nor wanton airs
The deeper soul of music move;
Only a solemn measure bears
With rapture that shall never cease
My spirit to the gates of peace —
The gates of peace.
So feel I when Francesca sings —
Francesca sings —
My thoughts mount upward ; I am dead
To every sense of vulgar things,
And on celestial highways tread
With prophets of the olden time,
Those minstrel kings, the men sublime —
The men sublime.
Thomas William Parsons.