 | English Roses |  |
THE LUTE OF LIFE.
Came a singer with a message of a music in his heart
And the passion of a presage which was his unstudied art,
Only telling what was dwelling in the chambers of his breast
To the buying and the selling and the people's wild unrest;
As they struggled on and juggled with each other and the truth,
And the baby dimly snuggled at the fountain head of youth.
But the glory of his story lay like sunrise on his lips
Dear to childhood and the hoary head that suffered sad eclipse;
And on toiling dens of soiling dropped from every golden string
Peace amid the spite and spoiling, just because he could but sing;
For where'er awhile he tarried in the fever of the strife,
With his loving hands he carried evermore the Lute of Life.
And the passion of a presage which was his unstudied art,
Only telling what was dwelling in the chambers of his breast
To the buying and the selling and the people's wild unrest;
As they struggled on and juggled with each other and the truth,
And the baby dimly snuggled at the fountain head of youth.
But the glory of his story lay like sunrise on his lips
Dear to childhood and the hoary head that suffered sad eclipse;
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Peace amid the spite and spoiling, just because he could but sing;
For where'er awhile he tarried in the fever of the strife,
With his loving hands he carried evermore the Lute of Life.
Yet the tune he played was single in the sweetness and the plan,
Though it seemed alike to mingle with the burden of each man;
With the trouble that was double from the darkness of the end,
And the fragile frame a bubble blown about and with no friend;
With the finding and the binding or the loosing of the bond
And the gaze that through the blinding mists could see no sky beyond;
With the driven shame or shriven penitence that brake in bloom,
And the murderer unforgiven tottering dumbly to his doom;
With the idle hating bridle—led by any tyrant lust,
And the crookèd souls that sidle and the straight unswerving trust;
On the service fired by duty fell that comfort never stale,
And the blemished got a beauty, and all drew a different tale.
Though it seemed alike to mingle with the burden of each man;
With the trouble that was double from the darkness of the end,
And the fragile frame a bubble blown about and with no friend;
With the finding and the binding or the loosing of the bond
And the gaze that through the blinding mists could see no sky beyond;
With the driven shame or shriven penitence that brake in bloom,
And the murderer unforgiven tottering dumbly to his doom;
With the idle hating bridle—led by any tyrant lust,
And the crookèd souls that sidle and the straight unswerving trust;
On the service fired by duty fell that comfort never stale,
And the blemished got a beauty, and all drew a different tale.
Every life, that dreamed or wrestled with despair, just heard its need
Answered by the song that nestled in the bosom like a seed;
For in broken hints or spoken words the melody was one,
And its ministry a token of the joy denied to none;
Thus the braving and the paving of the path, that climbed the slope
Up to rest beyond the raving of the world, heard simple hope;
And the leisure without measure, in its soft voluptuous coil,
Heard a higher strain of pleasure with the majesty of toil;
And the stayer or delayer in the valley doubting still,
Heard the humble breath of prayer as a medicine for his ill;
Every lot, that beamed or darkened in the shadow or the shrine,
Heard the truth for which it hearkened and with love was made divine.
Answered by the song that nestled in the bosom like a seed;
For in broken hints or spoken words the melody was one,
And its ministry a token of the joy denied to none;
377
Up to rest beyond the raving of the world, heard simple hope;
And the leisure without measure, in its soft voluptuous coil,
Heard a higher strain of pleasure with the majesty of toil;
And the stayer or delayer in the valley doubting still,
Heard the humble breath of prayer as a medicine for his ill;
Every lot, that beamed or darkened in the shadow or the shrine,
Heard the truth for which it hearkened and with love was made divine.
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