 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
“THE POET'S DAY”
The poet's day is different from another,Tho' he doth count each man his own heart's brother.
So crystal-clear the air that he looks through,
It gives each color an intenser hue;
Each bush doth burn, and every flower flame;
The stars are sighing; silence breathes a name.
The world wherein he wanders, dreams, and sings
Thrills with the beating of invisible wings;
And all day long he hears from hidden birds
The low, melodious pour of musicked words.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |