HAPPY SINGING
Menhave made songs,And I among them,Because some hellOf grief had wrung them.The tolling bellWill often bringTorture to forceA man to sing.But I this dayA song will makeOnly for joyAnd my sweet love’s sake:And will employNo sorrowful thingFor making of it,—That song, I’ll sing.But lovely laughterOf singing thrushesWhen dawn has brokenAnd heaven flushes,Shall be the tokenOf one whom daysNor death can robOf joyous praise.
Menhave made songs,And I among them,Because some hellOf grief had wrung them.The tolling bellWill often bringTorture to forceA man to sing.But I this dayA song will makeOnly for joyAnd my sweet love’s sake:And will employNo sorrowful thingFor making of it,—That song, I’ll sing.But lovely laughterOf singing thrushesWhen dawn has brokenAnd heaven flushes,Shall be the tokenOf one whom daysNor death can robOf joyous praise.
Menhave made songs,And I among them,Because some hellOf grief had wrung them.The tolling bellWill often bringTorture to forceA man to sing.
Menhave made songs,
And I among them,
Because some hell
Of grief had wrung them.
The tolling bell
Will often bring
Torture to force
A man to sing.
But I this dayA song will makeOnly for joyAnd my sweet love’s sake:And will employNo sorrowful thingFor making of it,—That song, I’ll sing.
But I this day
A song will make
Only for joy
And my sweet love’s sake:
And will employ
No sorrowful thing
For making of it,—
That song, I’ll sing.
But lovely laughterOf singing thrushesWhen dawn has brokenAnd heaven flushes,Shall be the tokenOf one whom daysNor death can robOf joyous praise.
But lovely laughter
Of singing thrushes
When dawn has broken
And heaven flushes,
Shall be the token
Of one whom days
Nor death can rob
Of joyous praise.