Chanting thy latest song aloft
With no tremor or disguise.
Thine is a music that defies
The envious rival near;
Thou hast no fear
Of the day’s vogue, the scornful critic’s sneer.
Would, O wisest bard, that now
I could cheerly sing as thou!
Would I might chant the thoughts which on me throng
For the very joy of song!