GO FORTH, GO FORTH, AND SLAY THE PHILISTINE.

A song I never heard

I must rehearse,

Counting each hour a word,

Counting each day a verse.

Not of my proper choice

Raise I my voice,

While others — fierce and strong —

Raise theirs to drown my song.

Must I then sing aloud,

Faint as a bird,

And, like a bird, be proud

To sing — to sing unheard?

Weary and very weak,

Shall I then seek

A hearing, idiot-wise,

From the unhearing skies?

Drowning my whispered dreams,

Great voices cry.

They sing their songs, it seems,

With better heart than I.

Hush — I can hear Death sing —

“Here is my sting.”

And the Grave echo — “See,

Here is my victory”

To-night the heavens bend

A little nearer.

The singer is my friend,

And I — at last — the hearer.

No more to sing alone

A song unknown,—

Hush — very tense and thin,

The dawn-like notes begin.