SONGS AND THE POET

Sing of the rose or of the mire; sing strife

Or rising moons; the silence or the throng...

Poet, it matters not, if Life

Is in the song.

If Life rekindles it, and if the rhymes

Bear Beauty as their eloquent refrain,

Though it were sung a thousand times,

Sing it again!

Thrill us with song — let others preach or rage;

Make us so thirst for Beauty that we cease

These struggles, and this strident age

Grows sweet with peace.