Lest through grey days all gleams depart
God gave to man the poet heart.
The heart that stores, for darkened hours,
The sunshine and the scent from flowers,
The fragrance of the morning breeze,
And weaves them into melodies!
None but himself may hear the song:
He hears it all his sweet life long.
Folks wonder why he should be gay
Who trudges on his lonely way:
They only see a desert track,
A weary form, a heavy pack.
And yet, for him, green places smile,
And unseen choirs the way beguile.
Others, less dowered, may glimpse at times
The fairy dell -- hear sweet flower-chimes!
For every man a poet is --
When life's supremest gifts are his!
But in the clangor of the mart,
Swiftly men lose the poet heart.
But he who drinks of beauty deep
Can hush his fiercest griefs asleep,
And when the Calvary way is long
He turns to pluck some flower of song!
First published in The Bulletin, 9 December 1922
God gave to man the poet heart.
The heart that stores, for darkened hours,
The sunshine and the scent from flowers,
The fragrance of the morning breeze,
And weaves them into melodies!
None but himself may hear the song:
He hears it all his sweet life long.
Folks wonder why he should be gay
Who trudges on his lonely way:
They only see a desert track,
A weary form, a heavy pack.
And yet, for him, green places smile,
And unseen choirs the way beguile.
Others, less dowered, may glimpse at times
The fairy dell -- hear sweet flower-chimes!
For every man a poet is --
When life's supremest gifts are his!
But in the clangor of the mart,
Swiftly men lose the poet heart.
But he who drinks of beauty deep
Can hush his fiercest griefs asleep,
And when the Calvary way is long
He turns to pluck some flower of song!
First published in The Bulletin, 9 December 1922
