Joy's the shyest bird
Mortal ever heard;
Listen rapt and silent when he sings;
Do not seek to see,
Lest the vision be
But a flutter of departing wings.
Straight down out of heaven
Drops the fiery leaven,
Beating, burning, rising in his breast;
Never, never long
Canst thou bear the song,
All too high for labor or for rest.
Hope can sit and sing
With a folded wing,
Long contented in a narrow cage;
Patience on the nest,
Hour by hour will rest,
Brooding tender things in hermitage.
Singers true and sweet,
Mockers bright and fleet,
Close about thy door they flit and call;
One that will not stay
Draws thy heart away;
Listen! listen! It is more than all.
