By Luis G. Dato
To the ear of murmurous zephyr,
Comrade, thrill your lute,
While the greening leaves and bowers,
Hearkening turn mute.
To the boughs where wanton clinging,
Flutter you about,
Sing of harmonies remembered
With your golden throat.
And to the blue vault of heaven,
To the utmost cloud,
Break like some rapt incantation,
Bold, supreme, and loud.
Fairy fruits and fairer flowers,
Be your muse or lyre,
While the white clouds drift at noonday,
With your song’s desire.
Build of earth a rumorous palace
Of all harmonies,
Of the reddening sky at dawning,
And the pale moonrise.
Borrow from the purling fountains,
From the conched sea,
Gusts of wild, symphonic laughter,
Wisps of harmony.
Gather from the long-stilled voices
Of the fleeting past,
Echoes dreaming in the darkness
Stirred to tones at last.
Sing of unremembered aeons
When the earth was new,
When the heart was large as heaven,
And desire was you.
Comrade, comrade, sing your ballad,
Sing your rhapsody,
Sing to earth, the seas, the heavens,
Sing to them, to me.
