All day, all day in a calm like death
The harp hung waiting the sea wind's breath.
When the western sky flushed red with shame
At the sun's bold kiss, the sea wind came.
Said the harp to the breeze, Oh, breathe as soft
As the ring-dove cooes from its nest aloft.
I am full of a song that mothers croon
When their wee ones tire of their play at noon.
Though a harp may feel 'tis a silent thing
Till the breeze arises and bids it sing.
Said the wind to the harp, Nay, sing for me
The wail of the dead that are lost at sea.
I caught their cry as I came along,
And I hurried to find you and teach you the song.
Oh, the heart is the harp, and love is the breeze,
And the song is ever what love may please.
Poems of Optimism. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1915.
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