THE SINGERS. That they might touch the hearts of men, The first, a youth with soul of fire, Through groves he wandered, and by streams, The second, with a bearded face, And stirred, with accents deep and loud, A gray old man, the third and last, And those who heard the Singers three But the great Master said, "I see I gave a various gift to each, To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. "These are the three great chords of might; And he whose ear is tuned aright Will hear no discord in the three, But the most perfect harmony." HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, PHILOMELA. HARK! ah, the Nightingale! The tawny-throated! Hark! from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark-what pain! O wanderer from a Grecian shore, Still, after many years, in distant lands, Still nourishing in thy bewildered brain That wild, unquenched, deep-sunken, old-world pain! And can this fragrant lawn, Dost thou to-night behold, Here, through the moonlight on this English grass, With hot cheeks and seared eyes, The too clear web, and thy dumb sister's shame? Dost thou once more essay Thy flight; and feel come over thee, Poor fugitive, the feathery change, Once more; and once more make resound, |