A Lost Chord

Adelaide Anne Procter (1825–1864)

Poems of Sentiment: III. Memory
A Lost Chord

SEATED one day at the organ,
  I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
  Over the noisy keys.

I do not know what I was playing,       ⁵
  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,     ¹⁰
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            ¹⁵
  From our discordant life.

It linked all perplexed meanings
  Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence,
  As if it were loath to cease.                    ²⁰

I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
  That one lost chord divine,
That came from the soul of the organ,
  And entered into mine.

It may be that Death’s bright angel         ²⁵
  Will speak in that chord again;
It may be that only in heaven
  I shall hear that grand Amen.

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Source: bartleby.com. IMG: shutterstock. AWIP: http://www.a-w-i-p.com/index.php/poetry/aK9c