THE EARTHLY PARADISE. OF Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing, I cannot ease the burden of your fears, Or make quick-coming death a little thing, But rather, when aweary of your mirth, From full hearts still unsatisfied ye sigh, And, feeling kindly unto all the earth, Grudge every minute as it passes by, Made the more mindful that the sweet days die - Remember me a little then I pray, The idle singer of an empty day. The heavy trouble, the bewildering care That weighs us down who live and earn our bread, These idle verses have no power to bear; B So let me sing of names remembered, Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time, To those who in the sleepy region stay, Folk say, a wizard to a northern king At Christmas-tide such wondrous things did show, So with this Earthly Paradise it is, Midmost the beating of the steely sea, Where tossed about all hearts of men must be; Whose ravening monsters mighty men shall slay, Not the poor singer of an empty day. |