  There came a youth upon the earth, Some thousand years ago, Whose slender hands were nothing worth, Whether to plow, or reap, or sow. 5He made a lyre, and drew therefrom Music so strange and rich, That all men loved to hear,—and some Muttered of fagots for a witch. But King Admetus, one who had 10Pure taste by right divine, To hear between the cups of wine. And so, well pleased with being soothed Into a sweet half-sleep, 15Three times his kingly beard he smoothed. And made him viceroy o'er his sheep. His words were simple words enough, And yet he used them so, That what in other mouths were rough 20In his seemed musical and low. Men called him but a shiftless youth, In whom no good they saw; And yet, unwittingly, in truth, They made his careless words their law. 25They knew not how he learned at all, For, long hour after hour, He sat and watched the dead leaves fall, Or mused upon a common flower. It seemed the loveliness of things For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs, He found a healing power profuse. Men granted that his speech was wise, But, when a glance they caught 35Of his slim grace and woman's eyes, They laughed, and called him good-for-naught. Yet after he was dead and gone, And e'en his memory dim, Earth seemed more sweet to live upon, 40More full of love, because of him. And day by day more holy grew Each spot where he had trod, Till after-poets only knew Their first-born brother as a god. |
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