There was a something in your song, men say
No later singer voices: some strange power
Like to the essence in a rare June day,
Or like the subtle perfume of a flower.
Awed and inspired, your listeners turned away,
Baptized in your sweet music's holy shower.
For through that music shone the glorious dower
Of your great soul: here all the secret lay.
Not for the honours of this earth you sang--
Not for its gold or glory, not for art,
Not for the fortunes at your fair feet hurled.
The love of God through all your measures rang,
And each pure note bespoke a noble heart.
When worth weds genius, lo! they rule the world.
Yesterdays. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1916.
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