The singer

I would sing with my lips to the lips of a sea-shell,

I would sing to the thrush and the cardinal bird,

I would sing though the singing breezes heard me,

Though the tall field grasses and light rains heard.

For I have a song that is fit for the singing,

And a song unmatched till the world be done,

Though never a heart on the wide world heed it

But mine and another one!