 | Poems in many lands |  |
14
THE POET.
He will come again as oft of old among you,
With his burden to fulfil;—
Did ye hearken ever to the songs they sung you
Till the song was still?
With his burden to fulfil;—
Did ye hearken ever to the songs they sung you
Till the song was still?
He will bear again the scorn, the idle wonder,
And heart-hunger and love's need;
You will drown the sound of music in your thunder,
And he will not heed.
And heart-hunger and love's need;
You will drown the sound of music in your thunder,
And he will not heed.
Singing unperplexed above the mocking laughter
Till his day be overpast;
Till the music dies, and silence follows after
And ye turn at last,—
Till his day be overpast;
Till the music dies, and silence follows after
And ye turn at last,—
Then when all the echoes breathe it and ye know it,
Ye will seek him to revere;
Cry aloud, and call him, master, lover, poet!
And he will not hear.
Ye will seek him to revere;
Cry aloud, and call him, master, lover, poet!
And he will not hear.
| Poems in many lands | |