Classic Poem

Sings a maiden by a river,
Sings and sighs alternately;
In my heart shall flow for ever,
Like a stream, her melody.
In her hair of flaxen hue
Tend'rest buds and blossoms gleam;
And her beauty glows as through
Hazy splendours of a dream.
Like her melody's rich bars—
Or a golden flood of stars,—
Rustling like a summer rain,
Through her fingers falls the grain,
Swells her voice in such sweet measure,
I must join for very pleasure;
But my lay shall be of her,
Bright and lovely Winnower!

When her song to laughter merges,
Melts the music of her tongue,
Like a streamlet's silver surges
Over golden pebbles flung.
From her hands the grainless chaff
On the light wind dances free;
But a sigh will check her laugh,—
“So much worthlessness, ah me,
Mingles with the good!” saith she.
Yet the grain is fair to see.
Laughter, like some sweet surprise,
Lights again her dewy eyes,
And her song hath drowned her sighs;
Therefore will I sing of her,
Bright and lovely Winnower!

Down beside as fair a river
Sings the Maiden Poesy,
In my heart shall flow for ever
Her undying melody.
Through her rosy fingers fall
Golden grains of richest thought;
While the grainless chaff is all
By the scattering breezes caught:—
So much worthlessness, ah me,
Mingles with the good!” saith she.
Yet the grain is bright to see,
Therefore laughs she merrily!
Laughs and sings in such sweet measure.
I must join for very pleasure—
While my heart keeps time with her,
I will praise the Winnower!