Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/363

Rh III

They said there were no more singers,

But listen!—a master voice!

A voice of the true joy-bringers!

Now will ye heed and rejoice,

Or pass on the other side,

And wait till the singer has died,

Then weep o'er his voiceless clay?

Friends, beware!

A keen, new sound is in the air;—

Know ye a poet's coming is the old world's judgment day!

THE SINGER OF JOY

BREAD UPON THE WATERS

, life o'er-wearied man

Sat in his lonely room, and, with slow breath,

Counted his losses: thrice-wreckt plan on plan,