This poem was written to Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings op.11

For the audio accompaniment as you read this poem, click here.

There’s not that I can softly say

That justice does to this my theme

There’s little I may do to sway

To shake or wake me from this dream

And in transcendent bliss I find

A moment’s rest for weary mind

For she the cusp of night and day

Is so much more than what she seems

–

That moment brief twixt light and dark

Is where her sovereign beauty reigns

That holy, pure, supernal spark

All other beauty gently shames

And in her tender touch of grace

All things I know have found a place

Her voice soft as the meadowlark

Forever in my soul remains

–

And as the sun begins to rise

Or as in turn she softly sinks

I see the wisdom in her eyes

From which my very being drinks

She bids me soft a fond farewell

Upon her cheeks I now can tell

Are tears that cast a tender spell

On all my mind now thinks

~j.d.schofield