When I have sung the sweet songs and the sad, The songs of magic drifting from above, The trumpet songs that shout across men's souls, The sleep-song, breasted softer than the dove, Still there will be one song I have not sung -- The song you love, the song you love. What are the torches of the world to you, The words that comfort men and calm their fears? What are the stars with their strange harmonies, Or fate that shadows all, or death that jeers? There must be laughter in the song you love And at the end there must be tears. When I have come to that green place we know Where cedars stand that have no faith in spring, Where through the utter peace of afternoon The mocking-birds their heartless raptures fling, Long after it is dust, one heart there'll be Restless with words it could not sing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIRD YPRES by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE TWICKENHAM AIR by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB THE FOE AT THE GATES by JOHN DICKSON BRUNS SOFT FEATHERS SPURNED by RUTH CARROLL THE SWASHBUCKLER by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN BALLADE OF FANCY FAIR by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS HIS NAME by CHARLES POOLE CLEAVES |