by Helen Hay Whitney (1876 - 1944)

Language: English 
Music has opened her hands,
Through fingers her jewels are falling,
Fingers so delicate slender,
Pale as the ghost of a flower.

Jewels of crimson, the life
Ebbing from hearts that are broken,
Roses and wine and red sunsets,
Flames of undying desire.

Jewels of azure, the sea
Dreaming of stars, and the morning
Dancing with life, then the silence
Blue of mysterious caves.

Jewels of green, and the grass
Lifts up its hands to the summer,
Hiding insidious serpents,
Fair as the sweets that are sin.

Jewels more bright than the sun
Music lets fall from her fingers.
We who have stood in the shadow--
How may we die for her sake?

B. Fairchild sets stanzas 1-3, 5


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2011-04-27
Line count: 20
Word count: 113