For the Making of Music

by John Vance Cheney

John Vance Cheney

Take of the maiden's, of the mother's sigh,

Of childhood's dream, the hope and peace that bless

Old age; take of the lover's kiss, caress,

Of light it kindles in the loved-one's eye;

Of June's long shadows, Autumn's evening sky,

Of roses, of the south wind's tenderness,

Of stars that burn through pine-tops, sprays that tress

The willow-banks where brooks run stillest by;

Take of the blissful lisping of young Spring,

Take of the last faint, pleading grief of Fall,

Of joy and woe that sleep and waking bring, —

The costliest offerings of the great, the small;

Now, pour into the empty soul each thing,

And let the Finger touch that moveth all.

Last updated January 14, 2019