English poem
V
by T. E. Hulme (1883–1917)
The mutilated choir boys When I begin to sing Complain about the awful noise And call my voice too thick a thing.
When light their voices lift them up, Bright notes against the ear, Through trills and runs like crystal, Ring delicate and clear.
They sing of Love that's grown desirous, Of Love, and joy that is Love's inmost part, And all the ladies swim through tears Toward such a work of art.