THERE came a youth upon the earth, Some thousand years ago, Whose slender hands were nothing worth, Whether to plough, or reap, or sow. He made a lyre, and drew therefrom Music so strange and rich, That all men loved to hear, -- and some Muttered of fagots for a witch. But King Admetus, one who had Pure taste by right divine, Decreed his singing not too bad To hear between the cups of wine: And so, well-pleased with being soothed, Into a sweet half-sleep, Three times his kingly beard he smoothed, And made him viceroy o'er his sheep. His words were simple words enough And yet he used them so, That what in other mouths was rough In his seemed musical and low. Men called him but a shiftless youth, In whom no good they saw; And yet unwittingly, in truth, They made his careless words their law. They knew not how he learned at all, For idly, hour by hour, He sat and watched the dead leaves fall, Or mused upon a common flower. It seemed the loveliness of things Did teach him all their use, For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs, He found a healing power profuse. Men granted that his speech was wise, But, when a glance they caught Of his slim grace and woman's eyes, They laughed, and called him good-for-naught. Yet after he was dead and gone, And e'en his memory dim, Earth seemed more sweet to live upon, More full of love, because of him. And day by day more holy grew Each spot where he had trod, Till after-poets only knew Their firstborn brother as a god. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE AUTHOR OF 'THE ROBBERS' (SCHILLER) by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE COMFORT [TO A YOUTH THAT HAD LOST HIS LOVE] by ROBERT HERRICK THEOCRITUS; A VILLANELLE by OSCAR WILDE THE MAID OF LLANWELLYN; A SONG by JOANNA BAILLIE LEISTON ABBEY by BERNARD BARTON |