I.
THE songs you sing, the songs you sing,
They are such songs as need not words,
They are the songs that soar and ring
Like utterance of wildwood birds.
The ear is puzzled at the sound—
They are so far from common art
That what is best in them is found
By simply listening with the heart!
The words you speak, the words you speak,
Have little of philosophy;
They voice not things that wise men seek,
They have no hint of poetry,
And yet each syllable that slips
Up from your soul and bubbles o’er
The yielding gateway of your lips
A gracious meaning holds in store.
The songs you sing are simple songs,
Your words are words that children use
To tell of love, complain of wrongs;
You may the guiding notes confuse,
(If any notes e’er met your eyes!)
They rise, and live, and lingering,
Each song and word alternate dies
In words you speak, in songs you sing.