Argument.
Hail to thee, Sound! The power of Euterpe in all the scenes of life    in religion; in works of charity; in soothing troubles by means of music; in all humane and high purposes; in war; in grief; in the social circle; the children’s lullaby; the dance; the ballad; in conviviality; when far from home; at evening the whole ending with an allegorical chorus, rejoicing at the building of a mighty hall erected for the recreation of a nation destined to take no inconsiderable part in the future history of the world.



Overture

No. 1 Chorus

All hail to thee, Sound! Since the time
Calliope’s son took the lyre,
And lulled in the heart of their clime
The demons of darkness and fire;
Since Eurydice’s lover brought tears
To the eyes of the Princes of Night,
Thou h...

In slumber, I prithee how is it
    That souls are oft taking the air,
And paying each other a visit,
    While bodies are heaven knows where?

Last night, 'tis in vain to deny it,
    Your soul took a fancy to roam,
For I heard her, on tiptoe so quiet,
    Come ask, whether mine was at home.

And mine let her in with delight,
    And they talked and they laughed the time through;
For, when souls come together at night,
    There is no saying what they mayn't do!

And your little Soul, heaven bless her!
    Had much to complain and to say,
Of how sadly you wrong and oppress her
    By keeping her prisoned all day.

"If I happen," said she, "but to steal
    "For a peep now and then to her eye,
"Or, to quiet the fever...

Bonny burd! aw'm fain to see thee,
For tha tells ov breeter weather;
But aw connot quite forgi thee,
Connot love thee altogether.

'Tisn't thee aw fondly welcome -
'Tis the cheerin news tha brings,
Tellin us fine weather will come,
When we see thi dappled wings.

But aw'd rayther have a sparrow,
Rayther hear a robin twitter;
Tho' they may net be thi marrow,
May net fly wi' sich a glitter;

But they niver leeav us, niver -
Storms may come, but still they stay;
But th' first wind 'at ma's thee shiver,
Up tha mounts an' flies away.

Ther's too mony like thee, swallow,
'At when fortun's sun shines breet,
Like a silly buzzard follow,
Doncin raand a bit o' leet.

But ther's few like Robin redbreast,
Cling throo days ...

    Through the vigils deep of the sable night
        A mother sits in grief alone,
    For her sons have gone to the battle front
        And left on the hearth a crushing stone.
    Beyond the stars that burn at night
        She sees God's arm in pity reach;
    It counsels patience, love and faith,
        Heroic hearts and souls to teach.

    The blue is spann'd and the tide goes out.
        And the stars rain down a kindlier cheer;
    And the mother turns from this throne of grief
        To pierce the years with a joyous tear;
    For duty born of a mother's heart
        Fills all the rounds of our common day -
    Yea, sheds its joy in the darkest night,
        And fills with light each hidden way.

    For Miss Ina Coolbrith.

Far from "where the roses rest",
Round the altar and the aisle,
Which I loved, of all, the best --
I have come to rest awhile
By the ever-restless sea --
Will its waves give rest to me?

But it is so hard to part
With my roses. Do they know
(Who knows but each has a heart?)
How it grieves my heart to go?
Roses! will the restless sea
Bring, as ye, a rest for me?

Ye were sweet and still and calm,
Roses red and roses white;
And ye sang a soundless psalm
For me in the day and night.
Roses! will the restless sea
Sing as sweet as ye for me?

Just a hundred feet away,
Seaward, flows and ebbs the tide;
And the wavelets, blue and gray,
Moan, and white sails windward glide
O'er the ever restless sea
From me, far and pea...

Her courts are by the flux of flaming ways,
Between the rivers and the illumined sky
Whose fervid depths reverberate from on high
Fierce lustres mingled in a fiery haze.
They mark it inland; blithe and fair of face
Her suitors follow, guessing by the glare
Beyond the hilltops in the evening air
How bright the cressets at her portals blaze.
On the pure fronts Defeat ere many a day
Falls like the soot and dirt on city-snow;
There hopes deferred lie sunk in piteous seams.
Her paths are disillusion and decay,
With ruins piled and unapparent woe,
The graves of Beauty and the wreck of dreams.

        On the shores of the northern lakes
        An infant giant now awakes,
        He has long time been in a dream,
        But now is roused by engine's scream.

        For mighty spirits are abroad
        Traversing of each great railroad,
        For it is a glorious theme
        The peaceful conquest made by steam.

        But should the foot of invader vile
        Ever desecrate his soil,
        He firm will meet him bold and brave
        And give him soil Canadian grave.

O’erweening Statesmen have full long relied
On fleets and armies, and external wealth:
But from 'within' proceeds a Nation's health;
Which shall not fail, though poor men cleave with pride
To the paternal floor; or turn aside,
In the thronged city, from the walks of gain,
As being all unworthy to detain
A Soul by contemplation sanctified.
There are who cannot languish in this strife,
Spaniards of every rank, by whom the good
Of such high course was felt and understood;
Who to their Country's cause have bound a life
Erewhile, by solemn consecration, given
To labour and to prayer, to nature, and to heaven.

From deepest depth, O Lord, I cry to Thee.
"My Love runs quick to your necessity."

I am bereft; my soul is sick with loss.
"Dear one, I know.    My heart broke on the Cross."

What most I loved is gone.    I walk alone.
"My Love shall more than fill his place, my own."

The burden is too great for me to bear.
"Not when I'm here to take an equal share."

The road is long, and very wearisome.
"Just on in front I see the light of home."

The night is black; I fear to go astray.
"Hold My hand fast.    I'll lead you all the way."

My eyes are dim, with weeping all the night.
"With one soft kiss I will restore your sight."

And Thou wilt do all this for me?--for me?
"For this I came--...