OCR Text |
Show Singer of One Song, lie snnc ono bomb ami died no more but that! A slnglo soni? and cnrelossly compote. Ilo would not hind and thresh his chnnco- Krown wheat, Nor bring his wild fruit to tho common vat. To store tlio ncld rinsings, thin and flat. Squeezed from tho press or trodden under feet. A few slow beads, blood red and honny sweet, Oozed from tho grape, which burst and (.-pilled Its fat. Hut Time, who soonest drops tho heaviest things That weight his pack, will carry diamonds long. t So through tho poets' orchestra, which weaves Ono music from a thousand stops nnd strong, ricrccs tho nolo of that Immortal song; "High over all tho lonely bugto grieves." Honry Augustln Doers. |