<SPAN name="chap051"></SPAN>
<h3> THE SINGER OF ONE SONG </h3>
<p class="poem">
He sang one song and died—no more but that:<br/>
<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">A single song and carelessly complete.</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">He would not bind and thresh his chance-grown wheat,</SPAN><br/>
Nor bring his wild fruit to the common vat,<br/>
To store the acid rinsings, thin and flat,<br/>
<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Squeezed from the press or trodden under feet.</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">A few slow beads, blood-red and honey sweet,</SPAN><br/>
Oozed from the grape, which burst and spilled its fat.<br/>
But Time, who soonest drops the heaviest things<br/>
<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">That weight his pack, will carry diamonds long.</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">So through the poet's orchestra, which weaves</SPAN><br/>
One music from a thousand stops and strings,<br/>
<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Pierces the note of that immortal song:—</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">"High over all the lonely bugle grieves."</SPAN><br/></p>
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