Classic Poem

I

God sat in heaven when all the harps were still;
God leaned and listened, listened toward the earth;
Tall angels stood with finger upon lip.
Only the stars were singing as at first.

God's voice in heaven was like a mourning stream:
" I hear the sound of laughter among men,
I hear the sound of trade, of war, of grief;
I miss the sound of singing among men. "

God called his swiftest angel: " Gabriel,
Go seek me out a singer on the earth,
And bid him make me music of men's deeds. "

When Gabriel's wings were silent in far air,
God said: " Let play, " and all the seven-stringed harps
Made joy in heaven.

II

The singer knelt before God's throne in heaven,
Abashed and weary, with a broken lute;
And all the harps were still because God spoke.
God's voice in heaven was like the wistfulsea:
" My singer, I have waited for thy song. "
The singer spoke in heaven: " Have pity, Lord!
Thine angel bade me wander through the world,
To make thee music of the deeds of men.
And I went gladly, ever fain to sing;
And my lute whispered: " Master, let us make
Songs of brave men in battle, fighting wrong
And loving death, for such songs please God's ear."
I stood among the greatest of earth's folk,
Where armies mustered, and where ships set sail,
And where the wise took counsel, so to hear
Some theme of glory, and beneath my hand
I felt my lute a-thrill. " The singer bent
Lower, and hid his face from God in heaven.
" I learned no theme of honor and great death;
Lord, strong folk trample weak folk for bright gold,
And wise folk outwit simple for bright gold,
And liberty is trafficked for bright gold,
And no man thinks of glory, nor of thee. "
God bowed his head in heaven; the angels wept.
" I might not make thee music of men's deeds,
But my lute whispered: " Master, let us make,
Since God is love, a new song of men's love,"
And I went gladly, thinking how for love
Bird mates with bird and man with maiden still,
As when the world was young. Beneath my hand
I felt my lute strings warm. But, when I sang,
Men laughed aloud in the great market-place,
Crying: " Thou fool! We sell love for bright gold!"
Then, Lord, my lute strings broke under my hand.
The lute no more gave counsel, but my heart
Said: " Yonder men are praying in the church.
Go, and make God sweet music of men's prayers."
And I went gladly, knowing song is prayer.
But when I knelt before thine altar, Lord,
My heart grew wise and terrible, and said:
" That priest beneath the cross serves for bright gold,
That kneeling prince is perjured for bright gold,
And poor men beg and shiver at the door."
Then I crept forth between the beggars, dumb.

" I might not make thee music of men's prayers,
O Lord, nor of men's loves, nor of men's deeds.
Behold! my lute is broken, and my heart. "

God's voice in heaven was like a silver reed:
" Arise, my singer, thou must forth again;
I know that there is music on my earth. "

The singer stood and spoke out bold in heaven:
" O Lord, if thou wilt send me forth again,
I will not go to the great folk and strong.
Find me some simple country on thy earth,
The least and poorest, so its fields be green,
Where I may watch men laugh, and weep, and love;
Where I may heal my heart, and mend my lute,
And sing to thee of birds and beasts and flowers,
And sing to thee of clouds and winds and seas;
And when I have forgotten greed and gold
May haply make thee music of men's hearts. "
And now all heaven grew fairer, for God smiled.

God called his angel of the sweetest name:
" Go, Raphael, thou shalt lead my singer forth.
Find him my poorest land where fields are green,
That he may heal his heart, and mend his lute,
And sing to me of birds and beasts and flowers,
And sing to me of clouds and winds and seas,
And, after, make me music of men's hearts. "
Singer and angel bowed before God's throne
And went their way. Then all the seven-stringed harps
Made joy in heaven.

III

Again God sat in heaven when harps were still.
God leaned and listened, listened toward the earth;
The angels stood with finger upon lip;
Only the stars were singing as at first.
God's voice in heaven was like the wind in June:
" I hear my singer in a small, green land,
Listen, he makes me music of men's hearts. "