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| WOULD you know the poet’s soul, | |
| Why he doth wondrous sing? | |
| Come, read the tale the Rabbis told | |
| Of Israel’s poet king. | |
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| From the orb of day, a golden ray, | 5 |
| From the moon its silvery beam, | |
| From the twinkling star in heaven afar, | |
| He took its shimmering gleam. | |
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| From the azure sky and the clouds on high, | |
| He borrowed their mingled glow, | 10 |
| And the verdant green,—all the varying scene, | |
| Of beauteous world below. | |
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| And the grateful praise for joyous days, | |
| That comes from out the heart, | |
| And the happy smile of romping child | 15 |
| Yet free from guile and art. | |
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| From the murmuring brook, its plaint he took | |
| Whilst dreamily flowing by; | |
| And the whispering breeze amidst the trees | |
| Lent its low and mournful sigh. | 20 |
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| And the dulcet note from the warbling throat | |
| Of the lark as it soared on high, | |
| And the linnet’s song, as it sped along | |
| ’Neath the dome of the summer sky. | |
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| And blending these beautiful things one with the other | 25 |
| In one harmonious whole, | |
| The Lord breathed it into the sovereign bard,— | |
| For such was King David’s soul. | |
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