"Sweep thy faint strings, Musician, <br />With thy long lean hand; <br />Downward the starry tapers burn, <br />Sinks soft the waning sand; <br />The old hound whimpers couched in sleep, <br />The embers smoulder low; <br />Across the walls the shadows <br />Come, and go. <br /> <br />Sweep softly thy strings, Musician, <br />The minutes mount to hours; <br />Frost on the windless casement weaves <br />A labyrinth of flowers; <br />Ghosts linger in the darkening air, <br />Hearken at the open door; <br />Music hath called them, dreaming, <br />Home once more."<br /><br />Walter de la Mare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-song-of-shadows/
