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OF Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing, | |
I cannot ease the burden of your fears, | |
Or make quick-coming death a little thing, | |
Or bring again the pleasure of past years, | |
Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears, | 5 |
Or hope again for aught that I can say, | |
The idle singer of an empty day. | |
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But rather, when aweary of your mirth, | |
From full hearts still unsatisfied ye sigh, | |
And, feeling kindly unto all the earth, | 10 |
Grudge every minute as it passes by, | |
Made the more mindful that the sweet days die | |
Remember me a little then I pray, | |
The idle singer of an empty day. | |
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The heavy trouble, the bewildering care | 15 |
That weighs us down who live and earn our bread, | |
These idle verses have no power to bear; | |
So let me sing of names remembered, | |
Because they, living not, can neer be dead, | |
Or long time take their memory quite away | 20 |
From us poor singers of an empty day. | |
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Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time, | |
Why should I strive to set the crooked straight? | |
Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme | |
Beats with light wing against the ivory gate, | 25 |
Telling a tale not too importunate | |
To those who in the sleepy region stay, | |
Lulled by the singer of an empty day. | |
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Folk say, a wizard to a northern king | |
At Christmas-tide such wondrous things did show, | 30 |
That through one window men beheld the spring, | |
And through another saw the summer glow, | |
And through a third the fruited vines a-row, | |
While still, unheard, but in its wonted way, | |
Piped the drear wind of that December day. | 35 |
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So with this Earthly Paradise it is, | |
If ye will read aright, and pardon me, | |
Who strive to build a shadowy isle of bliss | |
Midmost the beating of the steely sea, | |
Where tossed about all hearts of men must be; | 40 |
Whose ravening monsters mighty men shall slay, | |
Not the poor singer of an empty day. | |
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