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Title: Heartstrings
Author: Jared Barhite [
More Titles by Barhite]
The tiny trembling tendons
That twine about the heart,
Are chords that yield a music
Unknown to vocal art.
Though soft the notes are sounded,
Each vibration tells a tale
Of the mellow, winsome sunshine,
Or of fierce, destructive gale.
Though the strings be few in number,
They have compass far beyond
The myriad chords around them,
That are less delicately tuned.
List we softly to the music
As its volumes gently roll,
Varied in their intonation
By the tension of the soul.
Ecstatic measures fill us
With a rapture so profound,
That we fancy heaven's portals
With such harmonies abound.
Each note is rich in meaning,
Each tone is full and clear
To the charming sweet delusion
Of imagination's ear.
If you would hear this music
And be charmed by its tone,
Attune your heart to harmony,
For the music is its own.
No lessons conned in schooldays,
No studied forms of art,
Can profit us so greatly
As communion with our heart.
It will sing us songs of rapture,
Though silent each may be;
It will help to solve the questions
Of life's great mystery.
If one would hear sweet harmony
He carefully must live;
For these songs will be an echo
Of the keynote he shall give.
If heartstrings be but tuned aright
Sweet melodies we hear;
If strung with envy and deceit,
The tone is doleful, drear.
Then let us tune our hearts with joy,
And touch the strings with glee,
For honor, truth, and purity,
Will bring soul-ecstasy.
[The end]
Jared Barhite's poem: Heartstrings
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