  Listen! the mother Croons o’er her darling; Birds to the summer Call from the trees; Sailors in chorus Chant of the ocean: The poet’s heart singeth Songs sweeter than these. Thy lute, gentle lover, To her thou adorest; Ye troubadours! pÆans But Heaven’s own harpers Breathe not in their music The song that his happy heart Sings to itself; The changeless, soft song that it Sings to itself! FOOTNOTE: |
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