THE LOST—(AT LAST!)—CHORD.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume X, Issue 11, 18 March 1893, Page 264

THE LOST—(AT LAST!)—CHORD.

Seated one day in my study, I was anxious and ill at ease, And I tapped at the window wildly And rattled a bunch of keys ; Unless I could manage to scare him, All hope of repose was floored, For borne like a wail on an easterly gale I heard that dread ‘ Lost Chord !’ I made ambiguous signals That I wanted the tune to cease, For I had work to finish, And he was a foe to peace ; But the grinder only answered With a fixed demoniac grin. And steadily turned the handle And poured his distracting din. I know not of what he was dreaming As softly I stole aside, And thoughtfully lifted a scuttle of coals And opened the window wide ; Though I judge from his satisfied simper That his dreams were of anything but Of a blackened mound and a muffled sound And a window suddenly shut. It may be they’ll take the pieces To his far Italian home And carve from his bones mosaical stones To pave St. Peter’s at Rome : Or if they don’t—its the same to me. But this I’m prepared to maintain, That the ‘ Chord ’ he started to play is lost, And will never be found again.