And all the little maiden’s face
  Was kindled with a grateful grace;
“Oh, master, teach me; I will slave for thee!”
  She cried; and so the child grew dear
  To him, and slowly year by year
He taught her all the organ’s majesty;
  And gave her from his slender store
  Bread and warm clothing, that no more
    Her cheeks were pinched to see.

  And year by year the maiden grew
  Taller and lovelier, and the hue
Deepened upon her tender cheeks untried. 
  Rounder, and queenlier, and more fair
  Her form grew, and her golden hair
Fell yearly richer at the master’s side. 
  In speech and bearing, form and face,
  Sweeter and graver, grace by grace,
    Her beauties multiplied.

  And sometimes at his work a glow
  Would touch him, and he murmured low
“How beautiful she is?” and bent his head;
  And sometimes when the day went by
  And brought no maiden he would sigh,
And lean and listen to her velvet tread;
  And he would drop his hands and say,
  “My music cometh not to-day;
    Pray God she be not dead!”

  So the sweet maiden filled his heart,
  And with her growing grew his art,
For day by day more wondrously he played. 
  Such heavenly things the master wrought,
  That in his happy dreams he thought,
The organ’s self did love the gold-haired maid: 
  But she, the maiden, never guessed—­
  What prayers for her in hours of rest
    The sombre organ prayed.

  At last, one summer morning fair,
  The maiden came with braided hair,
And took his hands, and held them eagerly. 
  “To-morrow is my wedding day;
  Dear master, bless me that the way
Of life be smooth, not bitter unto me.” 
  He stirred not; but the light did go
  Out of his shrunken cheeks, and oh! 
    His head hung heavily.

  “You love him, then?” “I love him well,”
  She answered, and a numbness fell
Upon his eyes and all his heart that bled. 
  A glory, half a smile, abode
  Within the maiden’s eyes and glowed
Upon her parted lips.  The master said,
  “God bless and bless thee, little maid,
  With peace and long delight,” and laid
    His hands upon her head.

  And she was gone; and all that day
  The hours crept up and slipped away,
And he sat still, as moveless as a stone. 
  The night came down, with quiet stars,
  And darkened him:  in coloured bars
Along the shadowy aisle the moonlight shone. 
  And then the master woke and passed
  His hands across the keys at last,
    And made the organ moan.

  The organ shook, the music wept;
  For sometimes like a wail it crept
In broken moanings down the shadows drear;
  And otherwhiles the sound did swell,
  And like a sudden tempest fell
Through all the windows wonderful and clear. 
  The people gathered from the street,
  And filled the chapel seat by seat—­
    They could not choose but hear.