Bernard Raymund

I’VE been with old men

Shadowy and slow,

Men dead and buried

A long while ago;

But the songs that they sang me,

Grave songs and sweet,

Held me the whole day

Stretched at their feet.

Fire danced, and water

Whirled to the tune;

Laughter went ringing

Down the long noon.

But oh, what I loved most

Was not song at all!

Not the rich cadence,

The silvery fall

Of passionless voices

Kept me in thrall;

But the unquenched ardor,

Pitying, wise,

That lit their frail features

And flamed in their eyes

With a flame that transfigured

Starlight and dew—

The deep peace of old men

When singing is through.