POETS.
61
And the strength and the loving, to gaze on each thing
That they have not with joy in its beauty, and sing,
To some He hath given.
That they have not with joy in its beauty, and sing,
To some He hath given.
These sit in their gladness, all robed and all crowned.
As guests at Life's banquet, while swift circles around
Life's rosy joy-bringer;
But a banquet needs music, so these in the cold
Stand singing without; though his harp be of gold,
Wilt thou envy the singer?
As guests at Life's banquet, while swift circles around
Life's rosy joy-bringer;
But a banquet needs music, so these in the cold
Stand singing without; though his harp be of gold,
Wilt thou envy the singer?
For one (was it one then?) went forth from the crowd,
A warrior, chosen, and faithful, and vowed;
Sore-wounded, they found him
With a bright-blazoned banner wrapt round him, and prest
To his bosom, to stanch its deep death-hurt; none guessed
That his life-blood welled over it darkly, so proud
Was the purple that bound him.
A warrior, chosen, and faithful, and vowed;
Sore-wounded, they found him
With a bright-blazoned banner wrapt round him, and prest
To his bosom, to stanch its deep death-hurt; none guessed
That his life-blood welled over it darkly, so proud
Was the purple that bound him.
Ye sit by the hearth in the cold, bright spring weather
At evening, and hear the birds chiming together;
And ye say, "Happy singers!" forgetting the trees
Are leafless, and keen winds hold back beyond the seas
The swallow, blithe comer;
Yet Summer is coming for us as for these,—
A long Summer.
At evening, and hear the birds chiming together;
And ye say, "Happy singers!" forgetting the trees
Are leafless, and keen winds hold back beyond the seas
The swallow, blithe comer;
Yet Summer is coming for us as for these,—
A long Summer.
