Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/106

 Who gave thee words more golden than fine gold To carve in shapes more glorious than of old, And build thy songs up in the sight of time As statues set in godhead manifold:

In sight and scorn of temporal change and clime That meet the sun re-risen with refluent rhyme —As god to god might answer face to face— From lips whereon the morning strikes sublime.

Dear to the god, our god who gave thee place Among the chosen of days, the royal race, The lords of light, whose eyes of old and ears Saw even on earth and heard him for a space.

There are the souls of those once mortal years That wrought with fire of joy and light of tears In words divine as deeds that grew thereof Such music as he swoons with love who hears.