Sweet—that a lover’s notes
May burst from feathered throats.
Is there a doubter?
Did ever regal ear,
In ancient ages hear
Music diviner?
Unto each human life
With all its joy and strife,
Come, with renewing.
Breathe o’er each new-made grave,
Till the green grasses wave,
Like victory’s banner.
Come with thy healing balm,
To the sick chamber—calm
All who are restless.
Breathe o’er each buried hope
Till some bright flower shall ope
With its peace message.
Unto each gladsome heart
Come, and thy store impart
Of joy and beauty.
Lovers are walking near
Hast thou no wish to hear
What they are saying?
If magic be thine art,
Unto such lives impart
Strength to be faithful.
Plead with the tempted heart,
That as the green blades start
From the dry grasses,