Lyrics

down, Never felt the summer shower; If no busy, vagrant bees Came to woo it with the breeze; If no golden light was flooding, What would be the use of budding? If the heart Never felt the quick pulsation, Never knew the sweet elation That of faithful love is part; If lips lacked the warmth of kissing; If the tender words were missing That true hearts delight in giving, What would be the use of living ? THE POET Does the poet understand what the nightingale at night Sweetly sings ? Pouring out her secret heart to the pure and pale moonlight ? Does he understand the meaning of the singing That is ringing Everywhere On the air? Does the poet comprehend what the pearl pink- lined shell Murmurs faint ? Does it tell him all the secrets that the foam- touched wavelets tell, As they fling their arms caressing on the gleam Golden, beaming, Shell-strewn floor Of the shore? Does the poet hear the secrets of the fair-lipped flowers sweet ? What they say To each other? Does he listen while we tread them 'neath our feet, Just to hear the fragrant whisper ? catch the meaning Of the leaning Roses red In their bed? Does the poet hear the song through the music of the stream Fresh and clear, As it ripples, dances on ? on to meet the gold sunbeam, Which is waiting 'mid the shadows that are lying In the sighing Weeping willow Near the billow? Tell us, poet, are you gifted that these things y...