Sir Lewis Morris (1833–1907)

LOVE took my life and thrill’d it

Through all its strings,

Play’d round my mind and fill’d it

With sound of wings:

But to my heart he never came

To touch it with his golden flame.

Therefore it is that singing

I do rejoice,

Nor heed the slow years bringing

A harsher voice:

Because the songs which he has sung

Still leave the untouch’d singer young.

But whom in fuller fashion

The Master sways,

For him, swift wing’d with passion,

Fleet the brief days:

Betimes the enforcèd accents come,

And leave him ever after dumb.