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Henry Van Dyke - Storm-Music
Work rating: Low

O Music hast thou only heard
The laughing river, the singing bird,
The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees,—
Nothing but Nature`s melodies?
    Nay, thou hearest all her tones, 
      As a Queen must hear! 
      Sounds of wrath and fear, 
      Mutterings, shouts, and moans, 
    Madness, tumult, and despair,
    All she has that shakes the air 
    With voices fierce and wild!
Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming child,—
Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign 
Triumphant in a world of storm and strain! 

     Echo the long-drawn sighs
Of the mounting wind in the pines;
And the sobs of the mounting waves that rise
     In the dark of the troubled deep
To break on the beach in fiery lines.
     Echo the far-off roll of thunder,
           Rumbling loud
     And ever louder, under
     The blue-black curtain of cloud, 
     Where the lightning serpents gleam.
          Echo the moaning
     Of the forest in its sleep 
     Like a giant groaning
In the torment of a dream. 

     Now an interval of quiet
     For a moment holds the air
     In the breathless hush
     Of a silent prayer. 

     Then the sudden rush
     Of the rain, and the riot
     Of the shrieking, tearing gale 
     Breaks loose in the night, 
     With a fusillade of hail! 
     Hear the forest fight,
With its tossing arms that crack and clash 
     In the thunder`s cannonade,
     While the lightning`s forked flash 
Brings the old hero-trees to the ground with a crash!
Hear the breakers` deepening roar, 
     Driven like a herd of cattle
     In the wild stampede of battle, 
Trampling, trampling, trampling, to overwhelm the shore! 

     Is it the end of all?
     Will the land crumble and fall? 
     Nay, for a voice replies 
     Out of the hidden skies, 
"Thus far, O sea, shalt thou go, 
So long, O wind, shalt thou blow: 
Return to your bounds and cease, 
And let the earth have peace!" 

O Music, lead the way—
     The stormy night is past,
Lift up our hearts to greet the day,
     And the joy of things that last. 

The dissonance and pain
     That mortals must endure,
Are changed in thine immortal strain
     To something great and pure. 

True love will conquer strife,
     And strength from conflict flows, 
For discord is the thorn of life
     And harmony the rose.
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