Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.

Who hears music, feels his solitude peopled at once.

Who hears music, feels his solitude
Peopled at once.

Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.

Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?