Classic Poem

Still by the hill and glen,
And where the cities throng,
They break the singer's heart; and then
They glory in the song.

Come hither: lo, the woods
Of the sun's beams are fain;
Sounds in the dreary solitudes
The requiem of the rain.

Thy lips are ruby-red —
Thy hands are soft and white,
And the wide world is comforted
Of thy dear eyes of light.

Thou see'st, dear heart, afar
The soul — the song intense,
And roamest where Faith's angels are
In heaven's magnificence.

Lifting thine eyes above —
Sweeping the loftier scene;
Thou see'st the pallid ghost of Love
Over earth's graves of green.

Over earth's graves of green,
Walled in of sand and sod;
And makest still a song serene
That thrills the throne of God.

That thrills the faith-formed throne
'Neath which the star-wraiths drift;
For in the ages, dark, — unknown —
God's was the singer's gift!

Yet, with His lightnings hurled
The darkened heavens along,
What to the rude and rushing world
The melody of song?

Sing till the rivers sing!
Sing till the firm hills shake!
Sing 'till the seas are answering —
Sing till the heart shall break!

Thou shalt find little part
In earth's scant love and trust;
But for thy sweetest song, Sweetheart,
Measures of tears and dust!

Yet sing! for song is still
Of graces the one grace;
The singers who God's word fulfill
Shall see Him face to face.

Sing thou of love that lives
Where strifes and hatreds throng;
That, being wounded, still forgives —
That suffers and is strong.

No pence shall fill thy purse;
(Thy soul hath starved too long!)
For well we know gold is the curse —
The broad world's curse of song!

Sing not for worldly gain —
Sing not for dark or fair:
Sing thou in pleasure, peace and pain,
Because the song is there!

Sing brave, and be content,
When the world-thunders roll,
That in the night a great Voice sent
A message to thy soul!

For still by hill and glen,
And where the cities throng
They break the singer's heart and then
They glory in the song.