I am in need of music that would flow, over my fretful, feeling finger-tips, over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips, with melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow. Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low, of some song sung to rest the tired dead, A song to fall like water on my head. And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow! There is a magic made by melody: A spell of rest,…
