I WOULD be always in the thick of life, Treading its mazes, sharing in its strife, Yet—somehow, singing! Care shall not bend me down beneath its load, Fear shall not walk with me along the road— I will go singing! As children, to make gay their frolicking, Or, in the dark—to keep their courage—sing, So I go—singing! Not as one practiced in the singer's art, Nor always singing from a happy heart, But—somehow, singing! There may be some to listen for my voice; The grieving ones, it may be, will rejoice To hear me singing! So, friends, companion me along the way, And Love, bide with me till the end of day— To keep me singing! When, at the road's end, shadows longer grow— Into the last long shadow let me go, Still—somehow, singing! |