DREAMERS

There's a poet tombed in you,

Man of blood and iron!

There's a dreamer dead and buried

Deep beneath your cynic frown,

Deep beneath your toil!

And deep beneath my music,

There's a strong man stirs in me;

There's a ghost of blood and granite

Coffined in this madness

Carpentered of Song!

You live your day and drain it;

I weave my dream and lose it;

But the red blood lost in me awakens still at times,

At all your city's sky-line,

At all your roaring market-place,

At all its hum of power —

And the poet dead within you stirs

Still at the plaintive note or two

Of a dreamer's plaintive song!