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THE POET
41
Love is the sole interpreter
Of every lovely thing:
This is the burden of his song,
Well may the poet sing!
A joy-inspirèd song he sings
Because far off he hears
A whisper silencing the storm,
A laughter through the tears,
The music of eternity
Beyond the dying years.
His song is rapture, for he sees
God’s loveliness, and we,
