When the busy world shall a moment cease
Its headlong rush, for some bit of rhyme,
Some newly awakened chord, or chime,
That I may touch in that far-off time
While groping among the keys.
Sometimes I think that I yet may sing
A song that never was sung before;
That I yet may touch some quivering string
Till its slumbering soul shall awake and fling
A song into mine, that I shall sing
And men will echo forevermore.
__Albert Bigelow Paine.