by Adelaide Anne Procter (1825 - 1864)
The lost chord
Language: English
Available translation(s): LIT
Seated one day at the organ, I was weary and ill-at-ease; And my fingers wandered idly Over the noisy keys. I know not what I was playing Or what I was dreaming then, But I struck one chord of music Like the sound of a great Amen. It flooded the crimson twilight Like the close of an angel's psalm, And it lay on my fevered spirit With a touch of infinite calm. It quieted pain and sorrow Like love overcoming strife; It seemed the harmonious echo From our discordant life. It linked all perplexèd meanings Into one perfect peace, And trembled away into silence As if it were loth to cease. I have sought, but I seek it vainly, That one lost chord divine, Which came from the soul of the organ And entered into mine. It may be that death's bright angel Will speak in that chord again; It may be that only in heav'n I shall hear that grand Amen.
Authorship:
- by Adelaide Anne Procter (1825 - 1864) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Arthur Sullivan, Sir (1842 - 1900), "The lost chord", published 1877 [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- LIT Lithuanian (Lietuvių kalba) [singable] (Giedrius Prunskus) , "Prarastas akordas", copyright © 2022, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Ted Perry
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 28
Word count: 162