Queen of every moving measure, <br />Sweetest source of purest pleasure, <br />Music; why thy powers employ <br />Only for the sons of joy? <br />Only for the smiling guests <br />At natal or at nuptial feasts? <br />Rather thy lenient numbers pour <br />On those whom secret griefs devour; <br />Bid be still the throbbing hearts <br />Of those, whom death, or absence parts, <br />And, with some softly whisper'd air, <br />Smooth the brow of dumb despair.<br /><br />Joseph Warton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-to-music/
