And broked mold afashioned out by wearied hands;
A falter-song sung through tears o’ wearied one;
A fancied put o’ earth’s fair scene
Afallen at awry o’ weariness. Love’s task
Unfinished, aye, o’ertaken by sore weariness—
O’ thee I’d sing.
Aye, and put me such an songed-note
That earth, aye, and heaven, should hear;
And thou, aye all o’ ye, the soul-songs
O’ my brothers, be afinished,