Softly there fell, with fall of summer night,
Music afar, like rain across the sky;
Viols were sobbing for the passing light.
Wailing, " with day, our song muSt also die."
" Oh, little viol," thus to one I spake,
" Vex not thyself, that light or song will fade ;
It is enough, the while we live, to make
Song spring from sorrow, sunlight brighten
" Learn, that within thy throbbing bosom hidden.
Lie the sad Muses, 'neath a Strange decree;
Till, by the finger of musician bidden.
Opens a bar to set the captives free.
Then, all night long, will melody prevail.
Soft as the rain, yet sweet as nightingale."