Stradivarius

(To Jascha Heifetz)

If power were only given me, To paint the tone picture that arises from the soul Of that sanctuary of sound--your violin, Where would I find pigment worthy of such a use, Save in the fleeting splendour of some sky. Where a brush--save in a snowy feather From the shining wing of an archangel. Where the canvas--save across the dream memory of one who heard And was blessed by the hearing.