Classic Poem

A song I never heard
I must rehearse,
Counting each hour a word,
Counting each day a verse.
Not of my proper choice
Raise I my voice,
While others--fierce and strong--
Raise theirs to drown my song.

Must I then sing aloud,
Faint as a bird,
And, like a bird, be proud
To sing--to sing unheard?
Weary and very weak,
Shall I then seek
A hearing, idiot-wise,
From the unhearing skies?

Drowning my whispered dreams,
Great voices cry.
They sing their songs, it seems,
With better heart than I.
Hush--I can hear Death sing--
"Here is my sting."
And the Grave echo--"See,
Here is my victory"

To-night the heavens bend
A little nearer.
The singer is my friend,
And I--at last--the hearer.
No more to sing alone
A song unknown,--
Hush--very tense and thin,
The dawn-like notes begin.


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