MUSICIAN AND MORALIZER.
What am I “doing,” night and day,
Loitering here with the flute?—
Doing?—why blowing my plaints away,
Off, till I blow them mute.
“Foolish” am I?—It may be so.
Who, forsooth, are the wise?
I to the wind my sorrows blow:
Others hoard up their sighs.
“Useless” am I?—The while I play,
Many another one’s heart
Throbs to my melody, till, they say,
All of his woes depart.
Nothing of sweetness can fill the air,
Nothing of beauty bloom,
Save as visions of life more fair
Over the spirit loom.
Listen to this now—mine and thine.
How could I show more worth,
Than as a reed for a breath divine,
Blowing from heaven to earth?
“Music-mad” am I?—Have your say,
Whether you blame or applaud,
I the behest of my soul obey,
Just as it came from God.