THE PIPER AND THE REED THE PIPER AND THE REED

I am a reed—a little reed Down by the river, A whim of God whose moment's need Was that the Giver Might blow melodious and long One cadence of eternal song.

Through me are blown Wild whisperings of wind from hills No sun hath known. The splendour that Orion spills On purple space; The golden loom of Leo's mane; The scintillance of Vega's face; Dim unto dark: And great Arcturus' far refrain Fades to a silence that is pain, When, like a lark, Riseth melodious and strong That cadence of eternal song. God is the Piper—I, the reed Down by the river for His need. One note in those vast melodies Waited on me, Or else the choral companies Went silently Complaining to the muted stars: "What lack we yet that Discord bars That infinite Processional?" Or else the seraphim would call: "Minstrels, your dulcimers let fall And break the silvern psalteries!"

A little reed—a little reed! And yet were silence of that song, Failed I the river's pebbled brim, Nor trembled never unto him— The Piper! passing where we throng Vibrant and ready for His need.

O Miracle! He who in beauty goeth by The marches of the meadowy sky, A-piping on the many reeds His canticle, Paused in His playing; For He found An under-sound Failed of the music that He made. Wild winds went straying, Like sheep lost on the daisied meads— Scattered by Discord and afraid, Lost from the fold They knew of old. My God had need Of one more reed— Had need of me To make the perfect harmony. I am that under-sound, That needed note. Eternally the Piper tried Reed after reed until He found Me growing by the river-side, And laughing at the leaves that float Forever down its burnished tide.

How frail my body is—how frail And common of its kind; A reed among a field of reeds A-tremble to the wind— The wind that threshes like a flail Until my body bleeds! Yet through me such wild music blows The Piper laughs among the stars. Know you the Piper? Little scars Burn on His brow, each shoulder shows Wounds of a knotted scourge that fell To hurt Him from the hands of Hell! Welcome, O Wind! All hail, O Pain! One little reed—one little reed, To fill the Piper's far refrain, Is broken till its body bleed; Glad that the Minstrel Lord doth find A tone of His eternal need.