Page:Late lyrics and earlier, with many other verses (IA latelyricsearlie00hardiala).pdf/41

Rh And then were threads of matin music spun In trial tones as he pursued his way: "This is a morn," he murmured, “well begun: This strain to Ken will count when I am clay!"

And count it did; till, caught by echoing lyres, It spread to galleried naves and mighty quires.