A Song's Worth

I made a song for my dear love’s delight; I wrought with all sweet words my heart could lend To longing lips, and thrilled with joy to send The message only love could read aright. He came; and while I trembled in his sight, He kissed my hands and said, “To what sweet end, Unknowing, hast thou wrought, O gentle friend? Singing thy song, I learned to woo, despite My loved one’s frown; and now she is my own.” Blessing me then, he went his happy way. The whole world sings my song, and I alone Am silent; yet through tears I sometimes say, “To which of us doth greater joy belong? He hath his love; but I—I have my song.”