THE WAY TO SING.
37
That hour by hour the bells, the lights
Of sound of flame
Weave spell which ceaselessly recites
To thee a name,
And smiles which thou canst not forget
For thee are suns which never set.
Of sound of flame
Weave spell which ceaselessly recites
To thee a name,
And smiles which thou canst not forget
For thee are suns which never set.
THE WAY TO SING.
HE birds must know. Who wisely singsWill sing as they;
The common air has generous wings
Songs make their way.
No messenger to run before,
Devising plan;
No mention of the place or hour
To any man;
No waiting till some sound betrays
A listening ear;
No different voice, no new delays,
If steps draw near.
"What bird is that? Its song is good."
And eager eyes
Go peering through the dusky wood,
In glad surprise.
Then late at night, when by his fire
The traveller sits,
Watching the flame grow brighter, higher,
The sweet song flits
And eager eyes
Go peering through the dusky wood,
In glad surprise.
Then late at night, when by his fire
The traveller sits,
Watching the flame grow brighter, higher,
The sweet song flits
