Yet not because the world turns coldly by,
And makes its idols out of meaner clay,
Decking their shrines with wreaths of noble bay,
Shall I renounce the cheerless art I ply.
Under the desert’s hot and flickering sky,
I heard one morn a bird’s melodious lay;
And marvelled greatly at his vain display,
Alone himself, nor knowing aught was nigh.
Surely, I said, that minstrel’s liquid tone
Needs not the flattery of listening ears,
To make a temple of yon arid stone.
He sings to heaven his little hopes and fears,
In phrases suited to his heart alone,
And God, to hearken, hushes all the spheres.
(George Henry Boker)
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Based on Topics: God Poems, World Poems, Fear Poems, Birds Poems, Listening PoemsBased on Keywords: hushes, decking