Once on a time there was a bard Who made his tuneful lute to twang, But found the going rather hard, Till one day, growing wise, he sang: "Perhaps my little lays are bad, Perhaps you think I sing them wrong, But—none of them are very sad And none of them are very long!" Ah, then the people filled his hat And danced to all the songs he made; The minstrel waxed exceeding fat And joyfully his lute he played. The king came by and heard the lad Carol his promise to the throng, "None of my songs are very sad And none of them are very long!" "Oh, wondrous minstrel" quoth the king, "Oh, wisest of all bards there be, Come to the royal court and sing Thy deathless lyrics unto me." And so in silk the bard was clad, His verses rang the well-known gong, For none of them were very sad And none of them were very long! He sang of love and war and work, Of little things that men hold dear, Gay songs wherein the tear-drops lurk, Grave songs with smiles behind the tear; But all his many lyrics had A spirit unafraid and strong, And—none of them were very sad And none of them were very long. Hear, then, this poet's epitaph; "He sang of Hope and not Despair, Of how a man might bravely laugh Through all the woes that he must bear; He made a dull old world seem glad With bits of simple, dauntless song, For none of them were very sad And none of them were very long!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GO SLEEP, MA HONEY by EDWARD D. BARKER THE CAT OF CATS by WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS THE PORTRAIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE MALLARDS PASS UNHARMED by LAURA FRANCES ALEXANDER OUR MODEST DOUGHBOYS by CHARLTON ANDREWS ON A TOBACCO JAR by BERNARD BARKER THESE TIMES by GERTRUDE RYDER BENNETT |