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Ashlar Home > Poems > Rob Morris > Lingering Notes

Lingering Notes

By Rob Morris

Lingering notes the echoes stir,
Soft and sweet, these walls along
Softly, sweetly they concur
In the pleasant tide of song
Night birds cease their plaintive lays
Listening to the hymn of praise.

Angels gliding through the air,
On celestial mission bent,
Pause, the sacred hymn to hear,
Fold their wings in soft content,
Join their notes divine to these,
Hymning Masons' mysteries.

Now the solitary room,
Peopled with a countless throng,
Now the stillness and the gloom
Kindled with the tide of song,
Filling our delighted ears
Music of three thousand years!

Every Emblem pictured there,
On the ceiling, wall or floor,
Gavel, Trowel, Apron, Square,
Column rent or open Door,
Blends a light and yields a tongue,
To this softly lingering song.

Now the anthem dies away
One by one the voices cease
Birds resume their wonted lay
Angels on their mission press
But the latest note that moves
In the mystic song is Love's!

Commentary

None of the ancient Masonic legends are more graceful, or convey a more charmingly esoteric meaning, than that which assures us there is for an hour after the Brethren disperse from their Lodge room a mysterious echo of sounds, which may be heard there, weird, lingering, fraternal in tone, made up, in fact, of all the brotherly expressions and divine acknowledgments that have passed about the group through the entire convocation! It is affirmed by those who have the gift to understand it, to be charming beyond expression, and that the last note, as it dies away upon the ear, is the echo of that spirit which filled the soul of our Patron Saint, the Evangelist John Love!
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