New World Idylls

O lyrist of the lowly and the true, The song I sought for you Still bides unsung. What hope for me to find, Lost in the dædal mind, The living utterance with lovely tongue, To sing,--as once he sung, Rare Ariosto, of Knight-Errantry,-- How you in Poesy, Song’s Paladin, Knight of the Dream and Day, The shield of magic sway! Of that Atlantes’ power, sweet and terse, The skyey-builded verse! The shield that dazzles, brilliant with surprise, Our unanointed eyes.-- Oh, could I write as it were worthy you, Each word, a spark of dew,-- As once Ferdusi wrote in Persia,-- Would string each rosy spray Of each unfolding flower of my song; And Iran’s bulbul tongue Would sob its heart out o’er the fountain’s slab In gardens of Afrasiab.