Page:Poems, Meynell, 1921.djvu/71

A Poet's Fancies Before this life began to be,

The happy songs that wake in me

Woke long ago and far apart.

Heavily on this little heart

Presses this immortality.

IX

SINGERS TO COME

O new delights to our desire

The singers of the past can yield.

I lift mine eyes to hill and field,

And see in them your yet dumb lyre,

Poets unborn and unrevealed.

Singers to come, what thoughts will start

To song? what words of yours be sent

Through man's soul, and with earth be blent?

These worlds of nature and the heart

Await you like an instrument.

Who knows what musical flocks of words

Upon these pine-tree tops will light,

And crown these towers in circling flight,

And cross these seas like summer birds,

And give a voice to the day and night?

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