Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO AN OBSCURE POET WHO LIVES ON MY HEARTH, by CHARLES LOTIN HILDRETH


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO AN OBSCURE POET WHO LIVES ON MY HEARTH, by                    
First Line: Why shouldst thou cease thy plaintive song
Last Line: My troubled dreams.
Subject(s): Crickets


WHY shouldst thou cease thy plaintive song
When I draw near?
Has mankind done thee any wrong,
That thou shouldst fear?

To see thee scampering to thy den,
So wild and shy,
'T would seem thou know'st the ways of men
As well as I.

'T is true the palmy days are o'er
When all thy kind --
Poor minstrel folk -- at every door
Might welcome find;

For song was certain password then
To every breast,
And current coin that bought from men
Food, fire, and rest;

And these are more discerning days,
More coldly just:
I doubt thy rustic virelays
Would earn a crust.

The age is shrill and choral-like;
For many sing,
And he who would be heard must strike
Life's loudest string.

And thou, poor minstrel of the field,
With slender tone,
Art type of many a singer sealed
To die unknown.

And many a heart that would have sung
Songs sweet to hear,
Could passion give itself a tongue
To catch the ear.

But, cricket, thou shouldst trust in me,
For thou and I
Are brothers in adversity, --
Both poor and shy.

And since the height of thy desire
Is but to live,
Thy little share of food and fire
I freely give.

And thou shalt sing of fields and hills
And forest streams,
Till thy rapt invocation stills
My troubled dreams.





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