A Reed by the River/The Beggar's Harp
THE BEGGAR'S HARP
'Love shall live for its own sweet sake,
Song shall sing but for song alone,
All do they yield and nothing take,
Nor claim a part for their own.' . . .
Song shall sing but for song alone,
All do they yield and nothing take,
Nor claim a part for their own.' . . .
Out the gates in a vagabond way,
Love and I find pitiful fare;
Mayhap 'tis a crust of yesterday,
Or a sound of a voice on the air;
Love and I find pitiful fare;
Mayhap 'tis a crust of yesterday,
Or a sound of a voice on the air;
A smile that welcomes another's eyes,
The scent of a rose beyond the wall,
A rapture that never in words shall rise
And never in tears shall fall.
The scent of a rose beyond the wall,
A rapture that never in words shall rise
And never in tears shall fall.
' . . . Love shall live, though the star that gleams
Caught in thy tree-top high and bare,
Dies in the dark; but the dark hath its dreams
And the dreams, the dreams are fair! . . .'
Caught in thy tree-top high and bare,
Dies in the dark; but the dark hath its dreams
And the dreams, the dreams are fair! . . .'
Forth to the night my face is set,
And cold are the fingers that strive to play—
(. . . The shroud of the dew clings chill and yet,
But love is the ember that gloweth yet! . . .)
Ay, and though song be forgot in a day,
Ay, and though none shall recall or regret,—
Singing, I take my way.
And cold are the fingers that strive to play—
(. . . The shroud of the dew clings chill and yet,
But love is the ember that gloweth yet! . . .)
Ay, and though song be forgot in a day,
Ay, and though none shall recall or regret,—
Singing, I take my way.