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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341313" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Souless Singer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hail! throstle, by thy ringing voice descried,<br>Not by the wanderings of the tuneless wing!<br>Now once again where forkëd boughs divide,<br>Lost in green leafage thou dost perch and sing:<br>Trilling, shrilling, far and wide,<br>``It is Spring.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy matins peal long ere the rosy dawn<br>Unfolds its hull and burgeons into light;<br>Nor cease thy vespers till from darkling lawn<br>The silent shadows steal away in flight,<br>And the star-lit tent is drawn<br>Round the Night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is it in Heaven, or mid-way of the Earth,<br>Thou learn'st to outvoice, outnumber all the Nine?<br>What is the secret of thy madcap mirth?<br>Wilt thou not tell it me, and make it mine?<br>What is all my singing worth,<br>Matched with thine?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If heedless mortals only understood<br>What the prerogatives of real renown,<br>Hearing thee warble in umbrageous wood,<br>Or in the dingles of the rolling down,<br>It is thou, not I, that should<br>Wear the Crown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet perchance more deep and more divine<br>The insufficiency of my poor strain.<br>One single solitary note is thine:<br>Weak though they haply be, yet I have twain.<br>Joy is all thy song; of mine<br>Half is pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou with thy carol flatterest the Year<br>But when it frolics into happy bloom:<br>Only those notes hast thou, wild chanticleer,<br>That with their thoughtlessness can banish gloom<br>From its cradle; I, a tear<br>For its tomb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou with the blossom and bud and baby leaf,<br>Heartless of woe, dost revel and rejoice,<br>But for sere sorrow and the pensive sheaf<br>Lackest, for all thy minstrelsy, the voice:<br>There are seasons when sweet grief<br>Is our choice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, throstle, be the very voice of Spring,<br>And bring back rapture to the wrinkled bole!<br>Of all life's chords joy is the leading string,<br>And happiness is much, but not the whole.<br>Leave it then to me to sing<br>To the soul!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341313" data-title="A Souless Singer de Alfred Austin" data-description="Hail! throstle, by thy ringing voice descried,
Not by the wanderings of the tuneless wing!
Now once again where forkëd boughs divide,
Lost in green leafage thou dost perch and sing:
Trilling, shrilling, far and wide,
``It is Spring.''

Thy matins..."></div>
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