Джеральд Масси (Gerald Massey)

The Singer

UP out of the Corn the Lark caroll'd in light,
Like a new splendour sprung from the dark husk of Night,
Green light shimmer'd laughing o'er forest and sod;
The rich sky was full of the presence of God,
As with brave careless rapture he lavisht around
Rare violet fancies and rose-leaves of sound:
All thro' the Morn's sun-city sea-like his psalm
With melodious waves dasht the bright world of calm:
BUT  HEAVILY  HUNG  THE  DROOPT  EARS  OF  THE  CORN:
THEY  WERE  GATHERING  GOLD  IN  THE  DEWY  MORN.

And he sang, as on heaven's fire-grains he had fed,
Till his heart's merry wine had made drunken his head.
How he sang! as his honey in Life's cells ne'er dwindled,
And bon-fires of Joy on all Life's hills were kindled:
O! he sang, as he felt that to singing was given
The magic to build rainbow-stairways to heaven!
And he could not have sung with more lusty cheer,
Had all the world listened a-tiptoe to hear!
ALL  THE  WHILE  HEAVILY  HUNG  THE  CORN,
AND  ITS  DROWSY  EARS  HEARD  NOT  THE  SWEETHEART  OF
       MORN.

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