I Heard the Spirit SingingBy June E. Downy(In “The Independent.”)
By June E. Downy
(In “The Independent.”)
I heard the spirits singing in the ancient caves of work;“You are playing, man-child, playing, where the evil demons lurk.Yet I would not have you falter, or count the awful cost,Lest your heart grow old within you, and your zest for sport be lost.“So toss the ball of empire, with its fatal coat of fire;And dig for gilded nuggets, with the pangs of hot desire;And blow your filmy bubbles in the bright face of the sun,Tho’ you know they will tarnish, vanish, ere your playing day is done.“Go, spin your humming-top of thought, or brood with sullen lip,As you scrawl upon the canvas, or load the merchant ship;Come, tell some old, old story, or rehearse some ancient creed,Or with many a lisp of wonder, draw the music from the reed.“Let your playful hand in cunning devise a giant eye;And in long hours of frolic, guess the secrets of the sky;Or peer with curious longing in the busy under-bourne,Where microscopic beings are playing in their turn.“And raise Love’s swaying ladder to the dizzy heights of woe;And walk o’er desert places where the thorns and thistles grow,When the man-child gropes and stumbles and holds his quivering breath,As he meets within the shadows his last playfellow, “Death.”I heard the Spirit singing: “Laughter is the strongest prayer,And the zest of faith is measured by the mirth that toys with care;And he who plays the hardest and dares to sing aloud,Beyond the shadows’ caverns may some day work with God.”
I heard the spirits singing in the ancient caves of work;“You are playing, man-child, playing, where the evil demons lurk.Yet I would not have you falter, or count the awful cost,Lest your heart grow old within you, and your zest for sport be lost.“So toss the ball of empire, with its fatal coat of fire;And dig for gilded nuggets, with the pangs of hot desire;And blow your filmy bubbles in the bright face of the sun,Tho’ you know they will tarnish, vanish, ere your playing day is done.“Go, spin your humming-top of thought, or brood with sullen lip,As you scrawl upon the canvas, or load the merchant ship;Come, tell some old, old story, or rehearse some ancient creed,Or with many a lisp of wonder, draw the music from the reed.“Let your playful hand in cunning devise a giant eye;And in long hours of frolic, guess the secrets of the sky;Or peer with curious longing in the busy under-bourne,Where microscopic beings are playing in their turn.“And raise Love’s swaying ladder to the dizzy heights of woe;And walk o’er desert places where the thorns and thistles grow,When the man-child gropes and stumbles and holds his quivering breath,As he meets within the shadows his last playfellow, “Death.”I heard the Spirit singing: “Laughter is the strongest prayer,And the zest of faith is measured by the mirth that toys with care;And he who plays the hardest and dares to sing aloud,Beyond the shadows’ caverns may some day work with God.”
I heard the spirits singing in the ancient caves of work;“You are playing, man-child, playing, where the evil demons lurk.Yet I would not have you falter, or count the awful cost,Lest your heart grow old within you, and your zest for sport be lost.
I heard the spirits singing in the ancient caves of work;
“You are playing, man-child, playing, where the evil demons lurk.
Yet I would not have you falter, or count the awful cost,
Lest your heart grow old within you, and your zest for sport be lost.
“So toss the ball of empire, with its fatal coat of fire;And dig for gilded nuggets, with the pangs of hot desire;And blow your filmy bubbles in the bright face of the sun,Tho’ you know they will tarnish, vanish, ere your playing day is done.
“So toss the ball of empire, with its fatal coat of fire;
And dig for gilded nuggets, with the pangs of hot desire;
And blow your filmy bubbles in the bright face of the sun,
Tho’ you know they will tarnish, vanish, ere your playing day is done.
“Go, spin your humming-top of thought, or brood with sullen lip,As you scrawl upon the canvas, or load the merchant ship;Come, tell some old, old story, or rehearse some ancient creed,Or with many a lisp of wonder, draw the music from the reed.
“Go, spin your humming-top of thought, or brood with sullen lip,
As you scrawl upon the canvas, or load the merchant ship;
Come, tell some old, old story, or rehearse some ancient creed,
Or with many a lisp of wonder, draw the music from the reed.
“Let your playful hand in cunning devise a giant eye;And in long hours of frolic, guess the secrets of the sky;Or peer with curious longing in the busy under-bourne,Where microscopic beings are playing in their turn.
“Let your playful hand in cunning devise a giant eye;
And in long hours of frolic, guess the secrets of the sky;
Or peer with curious longing in the busy under-bourne,
Where microscopic beings are playing in their turn.
“And raise Love’s swaying ladder to the dizzy heights of woe;And walk o’er desert places where the thorns and thistles grow,When the man-child gropes and stumbles and holds his quivering breath,As he meets within the shadows his last playfellow, “Death.”
“And raise Love’s swaying ladder to the dizzy heights of woe;
And walk o’er desert places where the thorns and thistles grow,
When the man-child gropes and stumbles and holds his quivering breath,
As he meets within the shadows his last playfellow, “Death.”
I heard the Spirit singing: “Laughter is the strongest prayer,And the zest of faith is measured by the mirth that toys with care;And he who plays the hardest and dares to sing aloud,Beyond the shadows’ caverns may some day work with God.”
I heard the Spirit singing: “Laughter is the strongest prayer,
And the zest of faith is measured by the mirth that toys with care;
And he who plays the hardest and dares to sing aloud,
Beyond the shadows’ caverns may some day work with God.”