HE sings: and his song is heard, Pure as a joyous prayer, Because he sings of the simple things -- The fields, and the open air, The orchard-bough, and the mocking-bird, And the blossoms everywhere. He sings of a wealth we hold In common ownership -- The wildwood nook, and the laugh of the brook, And the dewdrop's drip and drip, The love of the lily's heart of gold, And the kiss of the rose's lip. The universal heart Leans listening to his lay That glints and gleams with the glimmering dreams Of children at their play -- A lay as rich with unconscious art As the first song-bird's of May. Ours every rapturous tone Of every song of glee, Because his voice makes native choice Of Nature's harmony -- So that his singing seems our own, And ours his ecstasy. Steadfastly, bravely glad Above all earthly stress, He lifts his line to heights divine, And, singing, ever says, -- This is a better world than bad -- God's love is limitless. He sings: and his song is heard, Pure as a joyous prayer, Because he sings of the simple things -- The fields, and the open air, The orchard-bough, and the mocking-bird, And the blossoms everywhere. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NIGHT-PIECE: TO JULIA by ROBERT HERRICK ABRAHAM LINCOLN WALKS AT MIDNIGHT by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY by BERNARD BARTON THE LATE STAND-TO by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN SONGS TO A WOMAN by MAXWELL BODENHEIM NITHSDALE'S WELCOME HAME by ROBERT BURNS |