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33
Charles Tennyson Turner.
APRIL 25, 1879.
Maker of songs most simple and most sweet,
With artlessness that only art commands,
Thy notes are hushed, the lute has slipped thy hands,
And lies still echoing with thy heart's last beat,
Full tuned and fit for service, at thy feet.
But whoso dares to wake its tender strands
Must know the touch a humble soul demands,
And eyes of love that lowliest things will greet.
With artlessness that only art commands,
Thy notes are hushed, the lute has slipped thy hands,
And lies still echoing with thy heart's last beat,
Full tuned and fit for service, at thy feet.
But whoso dares to wake its tender strands
Must know the touch a humble soul demands,
And eyes of love that lowliest things will greet.
In thee the dumb creation found a voice;
Though fenced and fine thy music's dainty sphere,
No wings that flashed but did thy song rejoice,
No hedge-row cry but found a listening ear;
Child-hearted thou, by nature as by choice,
True Christian Poet! blameless Sonneteer!
Though fenced and fine thy music's dainty sphere,
No wings that flashed but did thy song rejoice,
No hedge-row cry but found a listening ear;
Child-hearted thou, by nature as by choice,
True Christian Poet! blameless Sonneteer!
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