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a beautiful poem

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  • DB
    Music by Anne Porter When I was a child I once sat sobbing on the floor Beside my
    Message 1 of 2 , May 1, 2009
      Music

      by Anne Porter
      <http://www.elabs7.com/c.html?rtr=on&s=fj6,fxmc,dv,fpkd,kxb1,jaxl,3s6g>

      When I was a child
      I once sat sobbing on the floor
      Beside my mother's piano
      As she played and sang
      For there was in her singing
      A shy yet solemn glory
      My smallness could not hold

      And when I was asked
      Why I was crying
      I had no words for it
      I only shook my head
      And went on crying

      Why is it that music
      At its most beautiful
      Opens a wound in us
      An ache a desolation
      Deep as a homesickness
      For some far-off
      And half-forgotten country

      I've never understood
      Why this is so

      Bur there's an ancient legend
      >From the other side of the world
      That gives away the secret
      Of this mysterious sorrow

      For centuries on centuries
      We have been wandering
      But we were made for Paradise
      As deer for the forest

      And when music comes to us
      With its heavenly beauty
      It brings us desolation
      For when we hear it
      We half remember
      That lost native country

      We dimly remember the fields
      Their fragrant windswept clover
      The birdsongs in the orchards
      The wild white violets in the moss
      By the transparent streams

      And shining at the heart of it
      Is the longed-for beauty
      Of the One who waits for us
      Who will always wait for us
      In those radiant meadows

      Yet also came to live with us
      And wanders where we wander.

      "Music" by Anne Porter from /Living Things: Collected Poems/
    • write3chairs
      ... Yes, it is. I am so glad you shared it, Deborah. Thank you, Jenny
      Message 2 of 2 , May 4, 2009
        --- In anthroposophy_tomorrow@yahoogroups.com, DB wrote:

        > Music
        >
        > by Anne Porter
        > <http://www.elabs7.com/c.html?rtr=on&s=fj6,fxmc,dv,fpkd,kxb1,jaxl,3s6g>
        >
        > When I was a child
        > I once sat sobbing on the floor
        > Beside my mother's piano
        > As she played and sang
        > For there was in her singing
        > A shy yet solemn glory
        > My smallness could not hold
        >
        > And when I was asked
        > Why I was crying
        > I had no words for it
        > I only shook my head
        > And went on crying
        >
        > Why is it that music
        > At its most beautiful
        > Opens a wound in us
        > An ache a desolation
        > Deep as a homesickness
        > For some far-off
        > And half-forgotten country
        >
        > I've never understood
        > Why this is so
        >
        > Bur there's an ancient legend
        > >From the other side of the world
        > That gives away the secret
        > Of this mysterious sorrow
        >
        > For centuries on centuries
        > We have been wandering
        > But we were made for Paradise
        > As deer for the forest
        >
        > And when music comes to us
        > With its heavenly beauty
        > It brings us desolation
        > For when we hear it
        > We half remember
        > That lost native country
        >
        > We dimly remember the fields
        > Their fragrant windswept clover
        > The birdsongs in the orchards
        > The wild white violets in the moss
        > By the transparent streams
        >
        > And shining at the heart of it
        > Is the longed-for beauty
        > Of the One who waits for us
        > Who will always wait for us
        > In those radiant meadows
        >
        > Yet also came to live with us
        > And wanders where we wander.
        >
        > "Music" by Anne Porter from /Living Things: Collected Poems/

        Yes, it is. I am so glad you shared it, Deborah.

        Thank you,
        Jenny
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