Robert Browning

“ Would that the structure brave, the manifold music I build,
⁠Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys to their work,
Claiming each slave of the sound, at a touch, as when Solomon willed
⁠Armies of angels that soar, legions of demons that lurk,
Man, brute, reptile, fly,—alien of end and of aim,
⁠Adverse, each from the other heaven-high, hell-deep removed,—
Should rush into sight at once as he named the ineffable Name,
⁠And pile him a palace straight, to pleasure the princess he loved! ”

“ And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to man,
⁠That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star.
Consider it well: each tone of our scale in itself is nought;
⁠It is everywhere in the world—loud, soft, and all is said:
Give it to me to use! I mix it with two in my thought;
⁠And, there! Ye have heard and seen: consider and bow the head!
8.
Well, it is gone at last, the palace of music I reared;
⁠Gone! and the good tears start, the praises that come too slow ”

“ All through my keys that gave their sounds to a wish of my soul,
⁠All through my soul that praised as its wish flowed visibly forth,
All through music and me! For think, had I painted the whole,
⁠Why, there it had stood, to see, nor the process so wonder-worth:
Had I written the same, made verse—still, effect proceeds from cause,
⁠Ye know why the forms are fair, ye hear how the tale is told;
It is all triumphant art, but art in obedience to laws,
⁠Painter and poet are proud in the artist-list enrolled:—
7. ”