Children of the Night

Ballade of Broken Flutes

     (To A. T. Schumann.)

     In dreams I crossed a barren land,
      A land of ruin, far away;
     Around me hung on every hand
      A deathful stillness of decay;
      And silent, as in bleak dismay
     That song should thus forsaken be,
      On that forgotten ground there lay
     The broken flutes of Arcady.

     The forest that was all so grand
      When pipes and tabors had their sway
     Stood leafless now, a ghostly band
      Of skeletons in cold array.
      A lonely surge of ancient spray
     Told of an unforgetful sea,
      But iron blows had hushed for aye
     The broken flutes of Arcady.

     No more by summer breezes fanned,
      The place was desolate and gray;
     But still my dream was to command
      New life into that shrunken clay.
      I tried it.  Yes, you scan to-day,
     With uncommiserating glee,
      The songs of one who strove to play
     The broken flutes of Arcady.

         ENVOY

     So, Rock, I join the common fray,
      To fight where Mammon may decree;
     And leave, to crumble as they may,
      The broken flutes of Arcady.