What use to puff a blackened fire
Grown emberless within the grate?
What use to twang a damaged lyre
That’s only half articulate?
What use for dumb
Desire to thumb
The leaves of a curriculum
When other men matriculate?
’Tis vain to plan a fabric gay
With tangled warp and broken woof—
Just listen for a moment, pray,
—A magpie singing on the roof—
Just hear, and then
Throw down the pen:
The songs and wings of common men
Are anchored to a leaden hoof.
And yet, are other days, that bear
No weight of pessimistic sin—
A laurel leaf for me to wear,
A thought to stir, a smile to win;
And o’er the sea
There comes to me
The echo of a symphony
That sets the smiling world a-spin.
Now carmine-hued are Renée’s lips,
A thousand gleams light life’s old wine—
I tremble to the finger tips
To breathe devotion at her shrine;
But while I write,
Some blasting light
Reveals my rose an ashen white
That crumbles in these hands of mine.
What use to fret a halting brain
While inspiration holds aloof?
And hark! the voice bursts forth again,
—A magpie singing on the roof—
Just hear, and then
Throw down the pen:
The songs and wings of common men
Are tethered to a leaden hoof.
[Decoration: Mining with a windsail]