The poet sang of a battle-field <br />Where doughty deeds were done, <br />Where stout blows rang on helm and shield <br />And a kingdom's fate was spun <br />With the scarlet thread of victory, <br />And honor from death's grim revelry <br />Like a flame-red flower was won! <br />So bravely he sang that all who heard <br />With the sting of the fight and the triumph were stirred, <br />And they cried, "Let us blazon his name on high, <br />He has sung a song that will never die!" <br /> <br />Again, full throated, he sang of fame <br />And ambition's honeyed lure, <br />Of the chaplet that garlands a mighty name, <br />Till his listeners fired with the god-like flame <br />To do, to dare, to endure! <br />The thirsty lips of the world were fain <br />The cup of glamor he vaunted to drain, <br />And the people murmured as he went by, <br />"He has sung a song that will never die !" <br /> <br />And once more he sang, all low and apart, <br />A song of the love that was born in his heart: <br />Thinking to voice in unfettered strain <br />Its sweet delight and its sweeter pain; <br />Nothing he cared what the throngs might say <br />Who passed him unheeding from day to day, <br />For he only longed with his melodies <br />The soul of the one beloved to please. <br /> <br />The song of war that he sang is as naught, <br />For the field and its heroes are long forgot, <br />And the song he sang of fame and power <br />Was never remembered beyond its hour! <br />Only to-day his name is known <br />By the song he sang apart and alone, <br />And the great world pauses with joy to hear <br />The notes that were strung for a lover's ear.<br /><br />Lucy Maud Montgomery<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-three-songs/
