Edward MacDowell | Page 9

gainsaid. Recalling all of the influences of inherited and natural temperament, education, foreign environment and American experience, jealous as we are of his genius, we must admit that he caught in his productions the complexity of his time. His music is universal and reflects the genius of his contemporaries, as well as that of the older masters, impregnated with his individual creativeness. He had seeing eyes and hearing ears, and realizing the eternal principle of rhythm and the universality of tone, he caught the keynote of everything related to him in the outer world, with its corresponding relation in the inner or unseen realms, producing compositions that are complete in form, accurate in intellectual grasp and spiritually prophetic.
He fashioned his own wreath of immortelles,?With matchless skill.?Tones lent themselves with subtle eagerness?To do his will.?Repeat them as his genius did design,?His pow'r devise;?No higher tribute to his name and fame?From us could rise.
POETICAL INTERPRETATIONS
By ELIZABETH FRY PAGE
TO MACDOWELL
Now, in the darkness, mute, from hour to hour,?Sits one who lov'd all life, and from the strings?Of well-tuned harp brought sounds of common things,?And sang of sea and wood and tree and flow'r.?His task all done, fled usefulness and pow'r,?Through the deep shade his uncurbed fancy wings,?While with his fame his proud land loudly rings,?And praise falls on his work in lavish show'r.
The rosemary we bring, and no rude hand?The laurel would withhold, the plaudits stay.?For him is seen the magic circled wand?That to creative genius points the way.?His music's bold, true note Time's test will stand.?His age in art begins with cloudless day.
A.D. 1620
Exiled from home, for sake of faith held dear,?To distant shores the Pilgrim Fathers turned.?Their grief-stung hearts for Freedom's blessing yearned,?Where persecution's lash they need not fear.?In stately ships they sailed the ocean drear,?And more of trial and of hardship learned;?But in their loyal bosoms still there burned?Religious zeal that lent heroic cheer.
One hundred souls from Mother England came,?And many days fared on a storm-tossed sea,?Men, women, children, to be known to Fame?For braving death for sacred Liberty.?To our bleak, shelt'ring port they gave a name,?And marked an epoch in our history.
SONG
A merry song the pilgrim sang?To check the sigh of pain,?At thought of leaving his dear home?He ne'er might see again.?'Twas o-ho-ho and ah-ha-ha,?He laughed and sang alway;?When comrades' eyes were filled with tears,?Or sad heads turned away.
A cheery song, a merry song,?As o'er Life's sea we sail,?Will send a thrill of courage new?To hearts about to fail.?So sound a note, oh singer brave,?Whate'er your own soul's pain;?When time repeats its echo sweet,?'Twill bless your life again.
IN DEEP WOODS
A solitary soul, I walk at eve?Without the village walls, and in the deep?And sacred hush of woods, where fairies sleep,?Calm Nature soothes my senses, and I live?In realms that only creatures can conceive,?Who with their holy guardian spirits keep?Firm faith, and into loving arms I creep,?And mundane cares no more my spirit grieve.
Cool breezes blow about me, and I hear?The mellow bells of distant churches chime.?I wander on, with never thought of fear,?Secure as in some peaceful heav'nly clime.?Majestic, mystic things seem close and clear,?And all my soul is wrapt in thoughts sublime.
SHADOW DANCE
We two sat watching the shadows dance,?(Long years had passed since we were young),?And o'er the days that had fled there hung?A mist of sorrow and sad romance.
From out the gloom of an old stone wall,?The moon drew creatures of wondrous shape,?And none of our lost dreams could escape,?A cruel magic revealed them all.
They bowed and swayed with a mocking grace,?And held our gaze as they flitted by;?Our deep-drawn breaths were our sole reply,?As one by one we beheld each face.
A dream of Wealth and a dream of Fame,?And Love's dream, these were the foremost three,?Each with its shadowy train, till we?Could greet the phantoms of youth by name.
Our faces paled and we trembled there,?Watching the shadows dance on the wall;?Wealth, Fame and Love--we had missed them all,?And Sorrow's chalice had been our share.
But there was hope and we still had life,?And hearts are brave that the years have tried;?We looked in each other's eyes and sighed,?Sad, pain-filled eyes, but free of strife.
Dance on, gaunt shadows, beside the wall,?We shrink from you in your cruel mirth;?But what are you and the dreams of Earth??Our hard-won peace is worth them all.
AT AN OLD TRYSTING-PLACE
Where, dearest, fare thy feet this summer eve??Hast found a pasture green in which to tread,?Beside refreshing waters art thou led,?Content beyond my powers to conceive??Does overflowing cup thy thirst relieve,?With princely feast hast thou thy hunger fed,?Uplifted high is thine anointed head,?Among thy kind dost thou esteem receive?
I pray 'tis so; and evermore shall be,?That year by year thy honors may increase,?No shadow darken thy prosperity,?Nor treach'rous pitfall mar thy way of peace.?My loving eyes would always joy to see?Thy path lie fair