Our Task

If we could know the mystery
Hid in the skylark's wondrous song,
If we could hear the dulcet psalms
The sheeny stars have sung so long, —
We yet must turn to other sounds,
To human voices oft in pain;
To dissonance which should be tuned
To truest harmony again.

We cannot know, O fluting lark,
What lent thy song its ecstasy;
We yearn, in meditative mood,
To fathom all the mystery
Of Nature's tireless orchestra.
Ay! but that joy we can forego,
For there is need of list'ning ears
Where other voices charm us. So,

With vision clear and purpose pure,
Humanity's broad scheme we'll trace;
A wrong to right, a sob to hush,
To see a brother in each face
That lifts itself toward God's blue dome
In suppliant hope, — thus life expands
To sweet fruition, till the waves
Of Time are lulled on golden sands.