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Whitacre: Her Sacred Spirit Soars
Eric Whitacre
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Her sacred spirit soars o'er gilded spires
And breathes into creative fires a force;
In well-tuned chants and chords of countless choirs,
Lives ever her immortal shadowed source.
From age to age the roll of poets grows;
And yet, a lonely few are laurel crowned,
In whose sweet words her inspiration shows,
Revealing insights deep and thoughts profound,
O shall Cecelia, or shall Goddess Muse
Reach then to me across eternal skies?
Is heaven's quick'ning fire but a ruse,
Abiding rather here before mine eyes?
Nearer than I dream'd is she whose fame
All poets sing, whose glory all proclaim:
"LONG LIVE FAIR ORIANA!"
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