A Reed by the River/The Lost Song
THE LOST SONG
I, a lad, once long ago, followed those who tended sheep
On the plains, and laid me low with the little ewes to sleep.
Spake a shepherd; "Play, lad, play! Pipe thy tune that we may hark."
But I hid my pipe away, in the dew and in the dark;
On the plains, and laid me low with the little ewes to sleep.
Spake a shepherd; "Play, lad, play! Pipe thy tune that we may hark."
But I hid my pipe away, in the dew and in the dark;
Hid my pipe and hid my face, feigning sleep but musing still
How a new tune I should trace, ere dawn crept above the hill,
For no pipe so keen as mine, and no music were so clear,
All the shepherds spake it fine, told my playing far and near;
How a new tune I should trace, ere dawn crept above the hill,
For no pipe so keen as mine, and no music were so clear,
All the shepherds spake it fine, told my playing far and near;
What that I were but a lad? With my note of dark and dew,
Though the pipe were all I had, magic from the night drew.
Song of wind in olive leaves, murmuring of mountain stream,
Whisper of ungarnered sheaves . . . all of this my pipe did seem
When the shepherds silently kept their starry vigils long
While we wrought, my pipe and I, of the dark and dew a song.
Though the pipe were all I had, magic from the night drew.
Song of wind in olive leaves, murmuring of mountain stream,
Whisper of ungarnered sheaves . . . all of this my pipe did seem
When the shepherds silently kept their starry vigils long
While we wrought, my pipe and I, of the dark and dew a song.
It was long, ay, long ago . . . was it but a dream I had,
That my pipe, I loved it so, when I was a shepherd lad?
"Harken, lad! . . . Art playing now?' but again I said them Nay.
If 'twere not thy pipe and thou, whence the music far away?"
That my pipe, I loved it so, when I was a shepherd lad?
"Harken, lad! . . . Art playing now?' but again I said them Nay.
If 'twere not thy pipe and thou, whence the music far away?"
But I said them not a word, for the wonder everywhere,
For the glory that occurred, for the music in the air;
Knelt the shepherds, fearful they, but mine eyes I opened not;
Prone upon the earth I lay, smote my brow upon that spot.
For the glory that occurred, for the music in the air;
Knelt the shepherds, fearful they, but mine eyes I opened not;
Prone upon the earth I lay, smote my brow upon that spot.
Cared not I for that which came, if I dreamed or if I slept,
For song wrapped me as a flame, melody rejoiced and wept;
All the music of the spheres, all the songs that Heaven had
Sang together in my ears,—I, a little shepherd lad!
For song wrapped me as a flame, melody rejoiced and wept;
All the music of the spheres, all the songs that Heaven had
Sang together in my ears,—I, a little shepherd lad!
And the Souls of Song they swept singing Heaven's portals through,
Cared not I what watch they kept, only this my spirit knew,
Only this,—to hold that strain in my heart forevermore
That I should—ah, youth is vain!—play its music o'er and o'er.
Cared not I what watch they kept, only this my spirit knew,
Only this,—to hold that strain in my heart forevermore
That I should—ah, youth is vain!—play its music o'er and o'er.
It was long ago . . . the skies reached in silence, stars waxed dim.
Spake the trembling shepherds, "Rise! Let us go and worship Him!"
But my pipe I loved it best, passed the shepherds one by one,
And, that song within my breast, stayed I in the dark alone,
Spake the trembling shepherds, "Rise! Let us go and worship Him!"
But my pipe I loved it best, passed the shepherds one by one,
And, that song within my breast, stayed I in the dark alone,
To my lips the pipe I laid. . . . Surely I that music knew,—
Was I trembling and afraid, in the dark and in the dew?—
Surely I remembered yet, and could play its very strain,
If I died could I forget?—Ay, but youth is vain, is vain!. . . .
Was I trembling and afraid, in the dark and in the dew?—
Surely I remembered yet, and could play its very strain,
If I died could I forget?—Ay, but youth is vain, is vain!. . . .
In the night, that night I fled, panting, breathless, pressing far
Whitherto my shepherds led under one undying Star,
Mad was I,—for youth is blind—as I prest the nighttime through
Meaning of that Song to find, that my pipe should play it, too. . . .
Whitherto my shepherds led under one undying Star,
Mad was I,—for youth is blind—as I prest the nighttime through
Meaning of that Song to find, that my pipe should play it, too. . . .
I am old . . . 'Twas long ago. . . . Still I see that sacred place,
Hoary shepherds bending low, and the silent Maiden's face. . . .
O the hush, melodious, strong!—I was unafraid and glad.
O the Meaning of the Song!—I no more was but a lad,
For I found, but knew it not. And He was so sweet. so sweet,
That my pipe lay all forgot, fallen, broken, at His feet.
Hoary shepherds bending low, and the silent Maiden's face. . . .
O the hush, melodious, strong!—I was unafraid and glad.
O the Meaning of the Song!—I no more was but a lad,
For I found, but knew it not. And He was so sweet. so sweet,
That my pipe lay all forgot, fallen, broken, at His feet.