Poet of Earth

Oh, be not ether-borne, poet of earth; Stretch not thy wings to such a cloudless height As ne’er to know the darkness of the night, As ne’er to feel the touch of grief or mirth That lives in human sympathy, whose birth Is longed for in this world of love and blight; Thou, too, must drink of sorrow and delight, Must taste the joy of hope, and feel its dearth; God’s service lies not out of reach, and heaven Is found alone through lowly ministry; Some souls there are whose dumb chords wait the breath Of other souls, divinely gifted, given To voice the deeper tones, and lead the way To immortality, through life and death!

Collection: 
English
Stephen Henry Thayer

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