O singing heart, think not of aught save song; Beauty can do no wrong. Let but th' inviolable music shake Golden on golden flake, Down to the human throng, And one, one surely, will look up and hear and wake. Weigh not the rapture; measure not nor sift God's dark, delirious gift; But deaf to immortality or gain, Give as the shining rain, Thy music pure and swift, And here or there, sometime, somewhere, 'twill reach the grain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER THICKET by SHARON OLDS SENRYU: BLIND DATE by TIMOTHY LIU A DAY IN BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |