"I'll sing you a song

Of the days that are long;

Of the woodcock and the sparrow;

Of the little dog

That burnt his tail,

And he shall be whipt to-morrow."

That is the song the world sings

Of the long bright days:

That is the way she evens things,

Portions, and pays.

The dog that let his tail burn,

Proving one pain,

Shall be whipt next day, that he may learn

Wisdom again.

That is the song the world sings

To sin and sorrow:

Over her limit her hard lash flings

Into God's morrow.

Measures His dear divine grace

In compass narrow:

Counts for nothing the infinite days;

Forgets the sparrow.

The world sings only a half song;

Leaves our hearts sore:

Heaven, in the time that is tender and long,

Will sing us more.