Poems (Kennedy)/Song and Singer
SONG AND SINGER
I HEAR it in the vast, vague silences
I That thrall the ebon night,
Singing its soul out to the pallid stars
That guard Elysian height.
I That thrall the ebon night,
Singing its soul out to the pallid stars
That guard Elysian height.
At noon, high-tide of day's tumultuous roar,
'Tis calling, calling still;
And, oh! it comes to me like pipes o' Pan
From off the sunset hill.
'Tis calling, calling still;
And, oh! it comes to me like pipes o' Pan
From off the sunset hill.
The dusk is vocal with its cadences
That throb from star to star,
And, seraph-voiced, amid the radiant dawn
It lures me from a-far.
That throb from star to star,
And, seraph-voiced, amid the radiant dawn
It lures me from a-far.
Awake or half a-dream, I catch each note
As soft as coo of dove,
For the song is sung straight into my heart,
And the name of the singer is Love!
As soft as coo of dove,
For the song is sung straight into my heart,
And the name of the singer is Love!