So my
musical family comes and goes and I am called upon to lose them first
in one way and then in another. This was a sad surprise and a shock to
me. I wrote to him to come and see me and the answer came, "George has
gone up higher. He is not here among us any longer." It was a sad
message from the devoted wife. He was still a young, bright and active
man, but thirty-seven years of age. Truly "God moves in a mysterious
way His wonders to perform." In all things may we be able to say, "Thy
will, not mine, be done."
ODE TO A VOICE
Dedicated to Lady Margaret, with much love, by Mary Alice Sanford.
Christmas, 1909.
Singing forever from morn until night,
From low and sad to high and bright,
The voice of my Lady resounds in the air,
And tells all the world to put aside care.
As if watching the distant horizon blue,
We finally see the ships come in view,
We hear the soft music rise to her lips,
And those beautiful tones are our stately ships.
But listen again! Now what do we hear?
Why the rippling of the waters clear,
Or the lark's sweet song in yonder skies.
Or the soft flight of the butterflies.
The low murmuring of the breeze,
The nodding of the leaves on trees,
The blushing rose, the lily pure,
Is sung by a voice which can never be truer.
The anger of the stormy water,
The passion of lovers who never falter,
The insanity of a jealous husband's rage
Is sung by the marvelous voice of the age.
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