Page:Eight Harvard Poets.djvu/92

 OF TOO MUCH SONG

EDGES, have you sung too much, Sedges gray along the shore? Can this autumn tempest touch Answering chords in you no more? Is the summer all forgot? —     Now the ice is dark and strong That has bound you to the spot — Did you die of too much song?

Something in me is a harp Played by every wanton breeze. Moaning soft and piping sharp Are its wondrous melodies. Is the playing over-fast Though the answer now is strong? Like the sedges at the last Will it die of too much song? 81