THE SONG I NEVER SING
As when in dreams we sometimes hearA melody so faint and fineAnd musically sweet and clear,It flavors all the atmosphereWith harmony divine,—So, often in my waking dreams,I hear a melody that seemsLike fairy voices whisperingTo me the song I never sing.Sometimes when brooding o’er the yearsMy lavish youth has thrown away—When all the glowing past appearsBut as a mirage that my tearsHave crumbled to decay,—I thrill to find the ache and painOf my remorse is stilled again,As, forward bent and listening,I hear the song I never sing.A murmuring of rhythmic words,Adrift on tunes whose currents flowMelodious with the trill of birds,And far-off lowing of the herdsIn lands of long ago;And every sound the truant lovesComes to me like the coo of dovesWhen first in blooming fields of SpringI heard the song I never sing.The echoes of old voices, woundIn limpid streams of laughter whereThe river Time runs bubble-crowned,And giddy eddies ripple roundThe lilies growing there;Where roses, bending o’er the brink,Drain their own kisses as they drink,And ivies climb and twine and clingAbout the song I never sing.An ocean-surge of sound that fallsAs though a tide of heavenly artHad tempested the gleaming hallsAnd crested o’er the golden wallsIn showers on my heart....Thus—thus, with open arms and eyesUplifted toward the alien skies,Forgetting every earthly thing,I hear the song I never sing.O nameless lay, sing clear and strong,Pour down thy melody divineTill purifying floods of songHave washed away the stains of wrongThat dim this soul of mine!O woo me near and nearer thee,Till my glad lips may catch the key,And, with a voice unwavering,Join in the song I never sing.
As when in dreams we sometimes hearA melody so faint and fineAnd musically sweet and clear,It flavors all the atmosphereWith harmony divine,—So, often in my waking dreams,I hear a melody that seemsLike fairy voices whisperingTo me the song I never sing.Sometimes when brooding o’er the yearsMy lavish youth has thrown away—When all the glowing past appearsBut as a mirage that my tearsHave crumbled to decay,—I thrill to find the ache and painOf my remorse is stilled again,As, forward bent and listening,I hear the song I never sing.A murmuring of rhythmic words,Adrift on tunes whose currents flowMelodious with the trill of birds,And far-off lowing of the herdsIn lands of long ago;And every sound the truant lovesComes to me like the coo of dovesWhen first in blooming fields of SpringI heard the song I never sing.The echoes of old voices, woundIn limpid streams of laughter whereThe river Time runs bubble-crowned,And giddy eddies ripple roundThe lilies growing there;Where roses, bending o’er the brink,Drain their own kisses as they drink,And ivies climb and twine and clingAbout the song I never sing.An ocean-surge of sound that fallsAs though a tide of heavenly artHad tempested the gleaming hallsAnd crested o’er the golden wallsIn showers on my heart....Thus—thus, with open arms and eyesUplifted toward the alien skies,Forgetting every earthly thing,I hear the song I never sing.O nameless lay, sing clear and strong,Pour down thy melody divineTill purifying floods of songHave washed away the stains of wrongThat dim this soul of mine!O woo me near and nearer thee,Till my glad lips may catch the key,And, with a voice unwavering,Join in the song I never sing.
As when in dreams we sometimes hearA melody so faint and fineAnd musically sweet and clear,It flavors all the atmosphereWith harmony divine,—So, often in my waking dreams,I hear a melody that seemsLike fairy voices whisperingTo me the song I never sing.
As when in dreams we sometimes hear
A melody so faint and fine
And musically sweet and clear,
It flavors all the atmosphere
With harmony divine,—
So, often in my waking dreams,
I hear a melody that seems
Like fairy voices whispering
To me the song I never sing.
Sometimes when brooding o’er the yearsMy lavish youth has thrown away—When all the glowing past appearsBut as a mirage that my tearsHave crumbled to decay,—I thrill to find the ache and painOf my remorse is stilled again,As, forward bent and listening,I hear the song I never sing.
Sometimes when brooding o’er the years
My lavish youth has thrown away—
When all the glowing past appears
But as a mirage that my tears
Have crumbled to decay,—
I thrill to find the ache and pain
Of my remorse is stilled again,
As, forward bent and listening,
I hear the song I never sing.
A murmuring of rhythmic words,Adrift on tunes whose currents flowMelodious with the trill of birds,And far-off lowing of the herdsIn lands of long ago;And every sound the truant lovesComes to me like the coo of dovesWhen first in blooming fields of SpringI heard the song I never sing.
A murmuring of rhythmic words,
Adrift on tunes whose currents flow
Melodious with the trill of birds,
And far-off lowing of the herds
In lands of long ago;
And every sound the truant loves
Comes to me like the coo of doves
When first in blooming fields of Spring
I heard the song I never sing.
The echoes of old voices, woundIn limpid streams of laughter whereThe river Time runs bubble-crowned,And giddy eddies ripple roundThe lilies growing there;Where roses, bending o’er the brink,Drain their own kisses as they drink,And ivies climb and twine and clingAbout the song I never sing.
The echoes of old voices, wound
In limpid streams of laughter where
The river Time runs bubble-crowned,
And giddy eddies ripple round
The lilies growing there;
Where roses, bending o’er the brink,
Drain their own kisses as they drink,
And ivies climb and twine and cling
About the song I never sing.
An ocean-surge of sound that fallsAs though a tide of heavenly artHad tempested the gleaming hallsAnd crested o’er the golden wallsIn showers on my heart....Thus—thus, with open arms and eyesUplifted toward the alien skies,Forgetting every earthly thing,I hear the song I never sing.
An ocean-surge of sound that falls
As though a tide of heavenly art
Had tempested the gleaming halls
And crested o’er the golden walls
In showers on my heart....
Thus—thus, with open arms and eyes
Uplifted toward the alien skies,
Forgetting every earthly thing,
I hear the song I never sing.
O nameless lay, sing clear and strong,Pour down thy melody divineTill purifying floods of songHave washed away the stains of wrongThat dim this soul of mine!O woo me near and nearer thee,Till my glad lips may catch the key,And, with a voice unwavering,Join in the song I never sing.
O nameless lay, sing clear and strong,
Pour down thy melody divine
Till purifying floods of song
Have washed away the stains of wrong
That dim this soul of mine!
O woo me near and nearer thee,
Till my glad lips may catch the key,
And, with a voice unwavering,
Join in the song I never sing.