THE ONCE SUNG SONG
Christ along the Road to Fame,
When all birds were singing,
Pluck't white lilies as He came,
Set the blue-bells ringing;
Poppies flared in strident flame
When they heard His singing.
Further up the Road to Fame
Birds grew still in sorrow;
Though His feet were very lame
Courage did He borrow,
Singing as He onward came,
Dreaming of the morrow.
Crimsoned by the Road of Fame
Christ passed sick and dying.
Through the hedges, red with shame,
Crippled men there lying,
Seeing how He singing came,
Marvelled at their sighing.
Distant down the Road to Fame,
When all else ceased singing,
Messengers of music came—
Little echoes winging
Withered hearts with wings of flame—
Fragments of Christ's singing.