Classic Poem

Tom, Tom, the piper's son
Learned that pipers' days are done
Since oaten pipe and pastoral song
To rude and rural scenes belong
And all the tune that he could play
Was Over the hills and far away .

The schools receive him; and he reads
The round of all our real needs
The daylight hope of liberal days
One life to live, one world to praise,
The life that ends where it began
Here in the market-place of man,
They bid him trace in wheel and star
The God of all things as they are
They called the laurelled lords of fame
To put his petty pipe to shame
And rock-hewn Homer's horned lyre
And Maro's harp of heart's desire
Moaned with the tears of mortal things
And Shakespeare clashed his thousand strings
Crying and replying like a crowd
And Dante's iron lute was loud
With high unhuman love and hate —
— At the calm signal of the State
And just enactment of the School
They drowned the piping of the fool.

But all the tune that they could play
Was Over the hills and far away .