A Reed

I AM no trumpet, but a reed: No flattering breath shall from me lead A silver sound, a hollow sound! I will not ring, for priest or king, One blast that, in re-echoing, Would leave a bondsman faster bound.

I am no trumpet, but a reed,— A broken reed, the wind indeed Left flat upon a dismal shore: Yet if a little maid, or child, Should sigh within it, earnest-mild, This reed will answer evermore.