Page:Late lyrics and earlier, with many other verses (IA latelyricsearlie00hardiala).pdf/41

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BARTHÉLÉMON
13

And then were threads of matin music spun
In trial tones as he pursued his way:
"This is a morn," he murmured, “well begun:
This strain to Ken will count when I am clay!"

And count it did; till, caught by echoing lyres,
It spread to galleried naves and mighty quires.