Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE POET, by ELIZABETH OAKES PRINCE SMITH


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE POET, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Sing, sing - poet, sing!
Last Line: Though it pierce, shall give thee rest.
Alternate Author Name(s): Smith, Seba (e. Oakes), Mrs.; Oakes-smith, Elizabeth
Subject(s): Grief; Poetry & Poets; Singing & Singers; Sorrow; Sadness


Sing, sing -- Poet, sing!
With the thorn beneath thy breast,
Robbing thee of all thy rest;
Hidden thorn for ever thine,
Therefore dost thou sit and twine
Lays of sorrowing --
Lays that wake a mighty gladness,
Spite of all their mournful sadness.
Sing, sing -- Poet sing!
It doth ease thee of thy sorrow --
"Darkling" singing till the morrow;
Never weary of thy trust,
Hoping, loving as thou must,
Let thy music ring;
Noble cheer it doth impart,
Strength of will and strength of heart.
Sing, sing -- Poet, sing!
Thou art made a human voice;
Wherefore shouldst thou not rejoice
That the tears of thy mute brother
Bearing pangs he may not smother,
Through thee are flowing --
For his dim, unuttered grief
Through thy song hath found relief?
Sing, sing -- Poet, sing!
Join the music of the stars,
Wheeling on their sounding cars;
Each responsive in its place
To the choral hymn of space --
Lift, oh lift thy wing --
And the thorn beneath thy breast.
Though it pierce, shall give thee rest.





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