Poems (Piatt)/Volume 1/Fulfilment
< Poems (Piatt) | Volume 1
FULFILMENT.
He who can sing a song more sweet
Than skylarks learn in finest air,
Hears subtler music at his feet
Hum in the grass—at his despair.
Than skylarks learn in finest air,
Hears subtler music at his feet
Hum in the grass—at his despair.
He who has found a sudden star,
With new, quick halos for his head,
Sighs for some brighter one afar,
That sits for ever veiled, instead.
With new, quick halos for his head,
Sighs for some brighter one afar,
That sits for ever veiled, instead.
He who has dared, though half-afraid,
To make such beauty of the stone
As God from dust has never made,
At last looks on it with a moan.
To make such beauty of the stone
As God from dust has never made,
At last looks on it with a moan.
And she who wears such threads of lace
As fairies might from moonshine spin,
Will find, if any flower she trace,
The loveliest leaf was not put in.
As fairies might from moonshine spin,
Will find, if any flower she trace,
The loveliest leaf was not put in.
Yet holds this world one perfect thing,
That leaves no room to weep or pine;
You gave it to me with a ring,
To be for ever only mine.
That leaves no room to weep or pine;
You gave it to me with a ring,
To be for ever only mine.