Move on, light hands, so strongly tenderly, <br />Now with dropped calm and yearning undersong, <br />Now swift and loud, tumultuously strong, <br />And I in darkness, sitting near to thee, <br />Shall not only hear, and feel, but shall not see, <br />One hour made passionately bright with dreams, <br />Keen glimpses of life's splendour, dashing gleams <br />Of what we would, and what we cannot be. <br /> <br />Surely not painful ever, yet not glad, <br />Shall such hours be to me, but blindly sweet, <br />Sharp with all yearning and all fact at strife, <br />Dreams that shine by with unremembered feet, <br />And tones that like far distance make this life <br />Spectral and wonderful and strangely sad.<br /><br />Archibald Lampman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/music-186/
