"SAVE THAT POETIC FIRE"
Save that poetic fire
Burns in the hidden heart,
Save that the full-voiced choir
Sings in a place apart,
Burns in the hidden heart,
Save that the full-voiced choir
Sings in a place apart,
Man that’s of woman born,
With all his imaginings,
Were less than the dew of morn,
Less than the least of things.
With all his imaginings,
Were less than the dew of morn,
Less than the least of things.