Harp Music

Softly, let the measure break Till the dancers wake, and rise, Lace their golden shoes, and turn Toward the stars that burn their eyes.

Softly, let the measure flow, Float in silver, and follow.

Softly, let the measure dwell Slowly, as the spell is wound Out and in, through space and time, While the sandals rhyme the round.

Softly, let the measure stir, Lift, subside, and go under.

Softly, let the measure prove The bright cadence moving there Changing, for unbroken dark, The illumined arc of air.

Softly, let the measure be Unheard, but never wholly.