THE
ORGANIST
In
his dim chapel day by day
The organist was wont to play,
And please himself with fluted reveries;
And all the spirit’s joy and
strife,
The longing of a tender life,
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Took sound and form upon the ivory keys;
And though he seldom spoke a
word,
The simple hearts that loved
him heard
His
glowing soul in these.
One
day as he wrapped, a sound
10
Of feet stole near; he turned
and found
A little maid that stood beside him there.
She started, and in shrinking-wise
Besought him with her liquid
eyes
And little features, very sweet and spare.
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"You love the music, child,"
he said,
And laid his hand upon her head,
And
smoothed her matted hair.
She
answered, "At the door one day
I sat and heard the organ play;
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I did not dare to come inside for fear;
But yesterday, a little while,
I crept half up the empty aisle
And heard the music sounding sweet and clear;
To-day I thought you would not
mind,
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For, master dear, your face
was kind,
And
so I came up here."
"You
love the music then," he said,
And still he stroked her golden
head,
And followed out some winding reverie;
30
"And you are poor?"
said he at last;
The maiden nodded, and he passed
His hand across his forehead dreamingly;
"And will you be my friend?"
he spake,
"And on the organ learn
to make
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Grand
music here with me?"
And
all the little maiden’s face
Was kindled with a grateful
grace;
"Oh, master, teach me; I will slave for thee!"
She cried; and so the child
grew dear
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To him, and slowly year by year
He taught her all the organ’s majesty;
And gave her from his slender
store
Bread and warm clothing, that
no more
Her
cheeks were pinched to see.
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And
year by year the maiden grew
Taller and lovelier, and the
hue
Deepened upon her tender cheeks untried.
Rounder, and queenlier, and
more fair
Her form grew, and her golden
hair
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Fell yearly richer at the master’s side.
In speech and bearing, form
and face,
Sweeter and graver, grace by
grace,
Her
beauties multiplied.
And
sometimes at his work a glow
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Would touch him, and he murmured
low
"How beautiful she is?" and bent his head;
And sometimes when the day went
by
And brought no maiden he would
sigh,
And lean and listen to her velvet tread;
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And he would drop his hands
and say,
"My music cometh not to-day;
Pray
God she be not dead!"
So
the sweet maiden filled his heart,
And with her growing grew his
art,
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For day by day more wondrously he played.
Such heavenly things the master
wrought,
That in his happy dreams he
thought,
The organ’s self did love the gold-haired maid:
But she, the maiden, never guessed—
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What prayers for her in hours
of rest
The sombre organ
prayed.
At
last, one summer morning fair,
The maiden came with braided
hair,
And took his hands, and held them eagerly.
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"To-morrow is my wedding
day;
Dear master, bless me that the
way
Of life be smooth, not bitter unto me."
He stirred not; but the light
did go
Out of his shrunken cheeks,
and oh!
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His
head hung heavily.
"You
love him, then?" "I love him well,"
She answered, and a numbness
fell
Upon his eyes and all his heart that bled.
A glory, half a smile, abode
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Within the maiden’s eyes and
glowed
Upon her parted lips. The master said,
"God bless and bless thee,
little maid,
With peace and long delight,"
and laid
His
hands upon her head.
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And
she was gone; and all that day
The hours crept up and slipped
away,
And he sat still, as moveless as a stone.
The night came down, with quiet
stars,
And darkened him: in coloured
bars
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Along the shadowy aisle the moonlight shone.
And then the master woke and
passed
His hands across the keys at
last,
And
made the organ moan.
The
organ shook, the music wept;
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For sometimes like a wail it
crept
In broken moanings down the shadows drear;
And otherwhiles the sound did
swell,
And like a sudden tempest fell
Through all the windows wonderful and clear.
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The people gathered from the
street,
And filled the chapel seat by
seat—
They
could not choose but hear.
And
there they sat till dawning light,
Nor ever stirred to awe. "To-night,
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The master hath a noble mood," they said.
But on a sudden ceased the sound:
Like ghosts the people gathered
round,
And on the keys they found his fallen head.
The silent organ had received
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The master’s broken heart relieved,
And
he was white and dead.
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