O singing heart, think not of aught save song; Beauty can do no wrong. Let but th' inviolable music shake Golden on golden flake, Down to the human throng, And one, one surely, will look up and hear and wake. Weigh not the rapture; measure not nor sift God's dark, delirious gift; But deaf to immortality or gain, Give as the shining rain, Thy music pure and swift, And here or there, sometime, somewhere, 'twill reach the grain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EUROPE A PROPHECY by WILLIAM BLAKE THE POET AND THE BABY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR HOW WE BEAT THE FAVOURITE by ADAM LINDSAY GORDON THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE BIRTHDAY CROWN by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1824-1911) EPITAPH by KENNETH SLADE ALLING |