Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/23

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7
THE SINGER


Then, as had been our wont before,—
 Unused in vain to sigh,—
We turned our treasure o'er and o'er,
But found in all our vaunted store
 No coin that dreams would buy.


We stood with empty hands: but gay
 As though upborne on wings,
He left us; and at set of day
We heard him singing, far away,
 The joy of simple things!


He left us, and with apathy
 We gazed upon our gold;
But to the world's ascendancy
Submissive, soon we came to be
 Much as we were of old.


Yet sometimes when the fragrant dawn
 In early splendor beams,
And sometimes when, the twilight gone,
The moon o'er-silvers wood and lawn,
 An echo of his dreams


Brings to the heart a swift regret
 That is not wholly pain,