The Dreamer

 --for Arturo Toscanini

By Marcus B. Christian

I am the dreamer--one whose dream

Is a diaphanous strange thing;

I top the crags, i bridge the stream,

I make the dead page glow and sing.

I plumb the depths, I count the stars,

I strain the sinews of my soul

To break through earth's material bars

And seek perfection at its goal.

For I he who never halts--

I never say, "This task is done."

I climb through subterranean vaults

To tilt my lance against the sun.

I am the essence of all art--

Javelins of gold from darkness hurled

Into the light--I break my heart

To set my dream against the world.

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