GOD'S SINGER
He bore a harp within his hand,
And on his breast outspread
The flower, that from the dawn to dusk,
For love of one o'erhead.
Still follows on a look, till all
Its golden leaves are shed;
Ye had not called him grave or gay,
For old nor yet for young
Ye had not known him; so he seem'd
To be them all in one;
And only in his smile ye knew
The Singer ere he sung.
And on his breast outspread
The flower, that from the dawn to dusk,
For love of one o'erhead.
Still follows on a look, till all
Its golden leaves are shed;
Ye had not called him grave or gay,
For old nor yet for young
Ye had not known him; so he seem'd
To be them all in one;
And only in his smile ye knew
The Singer ere he sung.
"A Name,a Name is in my heart,
It bideth, hidden long,
Because my hand hath not a chord
That would not do it wrong;
So pure is it, so sweet, unmeet
For rounding of a song,
Yet in the cleft, its honey left
Hath made my spirit strong.
It bideth, hidden long,
Because my hand hath not a chord
That would not do it wrong;
So pure is it, so sweet, unmeet
For rounding of a song,
Yet in the cleft, its honey left
Hath made my spirit strong.
