 | Leaves of life |  |
19
A DEFENCE.
To S. W.
A singer sings of rights and wrongs—
Of world's ideals vast and bright,
And feels the impotence of songs
To scourge the wrong or help the right,
And inly writhes to feel how vain
Are songs as weapons for his fight;
And so he turns to love again
And sings of love for heart's delight.
Of world's ideals vast and bright,
And feels the impotence of songs
To scourge the wrong or help the right,
And inly writhes to feel how vain
Are songs as weapons for his fight;
And so he turns to love again
And sings of love for heart's delight.
For heart's delight the singers bind
The wreath of roses round the head,
And will not loose it lest they find
Time victor, and the roses dead.
‘Man can but sing of what he knows—
I saw the roses fresh and red!’
And so they sing the deathless rose,
With withered roses garlanded.
The wreath of roses round the head,
And will not loose it lest they find
Time victor, and the roses dead.
‘Man can but sing of what he knows—
I saw the roses fresh and red!’
And so they sing the deathless rose,
With withered roses garlanded.
20
And some within their bosom hide
Their rose of love still fresh and fair,
And walk in silence, satisfied
To keep its folded fragrance rare.
And some—who bear a flag unfurled—
Wreathe with their rose the flag they bear,
And sing their banner for the world,
And, for their heart, the roses there.
Their rose of love still fresh and fair,
And walk in silence, satisfied
To keep its folded fragrance rare.
And some—who bear a flag unfurled—
Wreathe with their rose the flag they bear,
And sing their banner for the world,
And, for their heart, the roses there.
Yet thus much choice in singing is:
We sing the good—the true—the just,
Passionate duty turned to bliss,
And honour growing out of trust;
Freedom we sing, and would not lose
Her lightest footprint in life's dust.
We sing of her because we choose—
We sing of love because we must!
We sing the good—the true—the just,
Passionate duty turned to bliss,
And honour growing out of trust;
Freedom we sing, and would not lose
Her lightest footprint in life's dust.
We sing of her because we choose—
We sing of love because we must!
| Leaves of life | |