Men had no time to listen,
And he no heart to wait:
So he hushed his song and passed along
Out through the city gate.
He went alone, the pale singer,
'Long the dusty road from the town:
His cheeks were thin, and tears stood in
His eyes so wide and brown.
And the woman's lip was trembling,
As she turned from her work to look:
The lover lorn forgot to mourn,
And the student closed his book.
When the sunset gates were opened,
And the western skies aflame,
From over the hill to the city still
A magical music came.
Men cried, "Do you hear the music?"
They were resting after the day.
"That singer sweet to our city street
Shall come and dwell for aye!"
Far over the land they sought him,
Sought till the night grew late;
But the weary feet of the singer sweet
Had passed the sunset gate.
Then back to the streets of the city,
Back to its tire, they came;
And eyes were wet with a sweet regret
As they spoke the singer's fame.
He passed alone, the pale singer,
And no one turned to look,
Save a woman worn, and a lover lorn,
And a student over his book.
Now ever in hush of evening
Men sit with lips grown dumb,
As over the hill to the city still
The songs of the singer come.
Page:Lippincotts Monthly Magazine-40.djvu/120
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THE PASSING OF THE SINGER.
