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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE REWARD OF SONG, by ALFRED NOYES Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Why do we make our music? Last Line: And love is its one reward. Subject(s): Dreams; Fame; Love; Music & Musicians; Rewards; Singing & Singers; Nightmares; Reputation | |||
WHY do we make our music? Oh, blind dark strings reply: Because we dwell in a strange land And remember a lost sky. We ask no leaf of the laurel, We know what fame is worth; But our songs break out of our winter As the flowers break out on the earth. And we dream of the unknown comrade, In the days when we lie dead, Who shall open our book in the sunlight, And read, as ourselves have read, On a lonely hill, by a firwood, With whispering seas below, And murmur a song we made him Ages and ages ago. If making his may-time sweeter With dews of our own dead may, One pulse of our own dead heart-strings Awake in his heart that day, We would pray for no richer guerdon, No praise from the careless throng; For song is the cry of a lover In quest of an answering song. As a child might run to his elders With news of an opening flower We should walk with our young companion And talk to his heart for an hour, As once by my own green firwood, And once by a Western sea, Thank God, my own good comrades Have walked and talked with me. Too mighty to make men sorrow, Too weak to heal their pain (Though they that remember the hawthorn May find their heaven again), We are moved by a deeper hunger; We are bound by a stronger cord; For love is the heart of our music, And love is its one reward. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THEM AND US by LUCILLE CLIFTON A MAN TO A WOMAN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS DEATH AND FAME by ALLEN GINSBERG EARTH'S IMMORTALITIES: FAME by ROBERT BROWNING STANZAS WRITTEN ON THE ROAD BETWEEN FLORENCE AND PISA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |
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