Paderewski Poem by Ina D. Coolbrith

The stars that sang in Time’s awakening,
Send each to each upon their golden round
A messenger, to hold the chords profound
Unbroken still: So David’s magic string
Loosened the evil fetters of the King!
So here- from what great star, divinely crowned? -
Rapt in whose ecstasy of perfect sound
Each ivory key becomes a living thing!
Eolian murmurs of a mystic dream;
The gathering tempest’s mighty thunder-roll;
A sob, a shivering sigh, just breathed, and mute;
Strife, triumph, rapture, peace of Heaven supreme-
All, all are his, the Master’s-twin of soul
With Israfel, ‘whose heart-strings are a lute.’