Classic Poem

That is what the song meant to me:
It translated the language of my own heart back to my heart again,
It translated the language of my own soul back to my soul again,
It made my meanings clear to myself when I thought I was lost in the mazes of my own incapacity,
It was melody doing the work which reason had failed to do and logic had failed to do,
It was that thing in me being at last said which for so long had refused to speak in its own behalf
The leaf of the tree that was blown by the wind said to the wind:
You have told me the meanings of myself as I could not tell them alone.
The wave of the sea that was hurried up the shore said to the shore:
You have told me the meanings of myself as I never could have told them alone
I heard the song, it visited me in sacred places:
The song danced itself in glad echoes through the last intimacies of my soul,
The song dirged itself in deep sorrow through the farthest centers of my spirit:
The song meant one thing to me when I hated,
The song meant one thing to me when I loved:
Satan came to me in a song and appointed a day for lamentation,
God came to me in a song and appointed a day for praise.
The song meant to me that which I meant to myself:
When I mean ugliness to myself the song is ugly,
When I mean beauty to myself the song is beautiful:
I have killed life in a song and thrown dirt into its grave,
I have resurrected life in a song and sent it perfected into the ceaseless future
The song is not for itself—oh! not for itself!
The song is not for the instruments of the great orchestra—oh not for them:
The song is for me—just for me—as I sit in the great hall in the crowd and listen,
It is addressed just to me—to a single person—to me
The man who wrote it away somewhere in another world back a day or two in another time,
Wrote it for me, prophetically singling me out by an instinct to be his auditor and incorporate his song in my life.

What did the song mean to me?
I crossed the river in a boat: what did the song mean to me?
I met a woman I love on the street: what did the song mean to me?
I took a baby in my arms, it looked up in my face and cooed: what did the song mean to me?
I sunk money in the market, we gambled and I lost: what did the song mean to me?
I was a revolutionist, I fought on the barricades for liberty: what did the song mean to me?
I starved in a garret trying to be faithful to my work: what did the song mean to me?
I grieved my friends, I was an outcast, my words were sin to the scornful: what did the song mean to me?
I was a criminal in the dock, they found me guilty, I was sent to jail: what did the song mean to me?
God the father up somewhere called to me the son down here, I answered yes: what did the song mean to me?
In the walk of heaven and the walk of hell, in all contrasts of loss and gain: what did the song mean to me?
My way was dark with the darkness of its sloth: what did the song mean to me?
My way was sunny with the sunshine of busy service: what did the song mean to me?
I stand awed before my own unanswerable questions, worshiping much, saying nothing:
What did the song mean to me?

What did the song mean to me?
The song did not mean something played by the master's orchestra,
The song did not mean something which came to me off the baton of the leader,
The song did not mean the grand harmonies of the composer—and they were very grand,
The song did not mean something the critics told me about in a book,
The song did not mean something I read of the song in the life of its author,
The song did not mean a faraway dream of the man in whose name it is put on the programs:
The song meant my life—the daily round of my innocent and guilty life,
The song meant my life—the common dirt out of which my life springs on the way to God.
The summoner when he wrote it knew well enough that there would be just such a man as me around to hear and answer,
He saw my face, he felt my faster beating heart, he counted my hurrying pulse,
He skipped all the years between and all the people and came straight to me,
In all the surrender and all the conquest of my life came straight to me,
So that as I sat there, just one person in the big crowd,
So that as I sat there, just in an ordinary seat, looking like all the rest,
He came to me direct, laid his hand on my arm, kissed my lips with his lips and went away complacent and uplifted,
Joyously confessing that the song and the master of the song had met and paid their immortal debt.

The leader dropped his baton for the last time—the orchestra was adjourned, the song was still, the compact between us was sealed forever.

I sat alone in the crowd, I withdrew from the great hall with my precious burden:
That is what the song meant to me.