Classic Poem

In this world, so wide and lonesome,
One dear friend have I, —
One whose loving presence cheers me
Under every sky:
Never care, nor pain, nor sorrow
Comes when she is nigh; —
Who so blest as I?

She has neither wealth nor station,
Gems nor precious things;
She has only long, fair tresses,
And most glorious wings;
She can neither strive nor labor:
What of that? she sings, —
Wondrously she sings!

Once, as wearily we wandered
Over moor and plain,
Up the hills and down the valleys,
In the sun and rain,
Said I, softly, " Let some other
Hear this marvellous strain,
Else you sing in vain.

" Sing until the deaf ones listen, —
Sing and win a name;
Sing till human hearts, awakened,
Yield you all you claim; —
Sing and make the worldlings wonder,
Angel, sing for Fame!
Prithee sing for Fame! "

Then she tried a simple measure,
Faint and quivering;
But her sweet voice failed and trembled,
Till, poor timid thing!
All the wise ones sneered and whispered,
And she would not sing, —
No, she would not sing.

Then I said, " We two are friendless.
Poor and unconsoled;
I am growing sad and hungry,
Weary, faint, and cold:
Since you will not sing for Glory,
Angel, sing for Gold, —
Prithee sing for Gold! "

So the throng stood still and listened
With expectant ears;
But the sweet-voiced singer faltered,
Full of doubts and fears,
And the soul-enchanting music
Failed in sobs and tears, —
Bitter sobs and tears!

" Fairer than a morning blossom,
Gentler than a dove,
Purer than the sky when Hesper
Bares his brow above, —
Since you crave not Gold nor Glory,
Angel, sing for Love, —
Prithee sing for Love! "

Then she sang, O most divinely!
With no pause or fear, —
Sang until the best and proudest
Lent an eager ear:
But the true soul of her music
Only one can hear, —
One alone can hear!