I Tuned My Song To Love And Hate

I tuned my song to love and hate,
And pain and scorn, and wrung
From passion's heat the flame!
And found the song a wailing waste of voice.
My song but reached the earth
And echoed o'er its plains.
I sought for one who sang a wordless lay;
And up from 'mong the rushes soared a lark.
Hark to his song!
From sunlight came his gladdening note;
And ah, his trill-the raindrops patter!
And think ye that the thief would steal
The rustle of the leaves, or yet
The chilling chatter of the brooklet's song?
Not claiming as his own the carol of
My heart; or listening to my plaint,
He sings amid the clouds!
And through the downward cadence
I but hear the murmurings of the day.