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221
To My Book.
Go tell thy tale to any ear
Which loves the notes resounding clear
Through sylvan aisle or winding dale;
Where lilies meet the nightingale
To bless with scent and song the year.
Which loves the notes resounding clear
Through sylvan aisle or winding dale;
Where lilies meet the nightingale
To bless with scent and song the year.
To any heart that holds more dear
The sacred thoughts of saint or seer,
Embalmed in leaves which never fail,
Go tell thy tale.
The sacred thoughts of saint or seer,
Embalmed in leaves which never fail,
Go tell thy tale.
Where souls are sad and homes are drear,
Like flowers or singing-birds appear;
Breathe comfort to the mourner pale;
Say to the lowly-wise, All hail;
Thy words are heart-deep; do not fear,—
Go tell thy tale.
Like flowers or singing-birds appear;
Breathe comfort to the mourner pale;
Say to the lowly-wise, All hail;
Thy words are heart-deep; do not fear,—
Go tell thy tale.
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