Not on the lute, nor harp of many strings <br /> Shall all men praise the Master of all song. <br /> Our life is brief, one saith, and art is long; <br />And skilled must be the laureates of kings. <br />Silent, O lips that utter foolish things! <br /> Rest, awkward fingers striking all notes wrong! <br /> How from your toil shall issue, white and strong, <br />Music like that God's chosen poet sings? <br /> <br />There is one harp that any hand can play, <br /> And from its strings what harmonies arise! <br />There is one song that any mouth can say, -- <br /> A song that lingers when all singing dies. <br />When on their beads our Mother's children pray <br /> Immortal music charms the grateful skies.<br /><br />Joyce Kilmer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rosary/
