Poems (Hoffman)/Lines (May the first song and yet the last I sing)
LINES
May the first song and yet the last I sing,Be of the sweet bird with the broken wingThat struggles in the red-stained grass to rise,And pours its music into thankless skies;Be of the rosebud bright and fair,Breathing sweet fragrance from the air;Be of the heart that torn and wounded livesAbove the anguish that another gives,That lets no bitterness from all its wrongTaint its pure sweetness or make harsh its song.