In the ink of our sweat we will find it yet,
The song that is fit for men!

In the ink of our sweat we will find it yet,
The song that is fit for men!

Song forbids victorious deeds to die.

Song forbids victorious deeds to die.

I can not sing the old songs now!
It is not that I deem them low,
'Tis read more

I can not sing the old songs now!
It is not that I deem them low,
'Tis that I can't remember how
They go.

She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with
pity: and when winter evenings fall early read more

She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with
pity: and when winter evenings fall early (sitting at her merry
wheel), she sings a defiance to the giddy wheel of
fortune . . . and fears no manner of ill because she means none.

A song of hate is a song of Hell;
Some there be who sing it well.
Let read more

A song of hate is a song of Hell;
Some there be who sing it well.
Let them sing it loud and long,
We lift our hearts in a loftier song:
We life our hearts to Heaven above,
Singing the glory of her we love,
England.

California sunlight - sweet Calcutta rain - Honolulu starbright - the song remains the same.

California sunlight - sweet Calcutta rain - Honolulu starbright - the song remains the same.

The song is ended / But the melody lingers on.

The song is ended / But the melody lingers on.

And grant that when I face the grisly Thing,
My song may trumptet down the gray Perhaps
read more

And grant that when I face the grisly Thing,
My song may trumptet down the gray Perhaps
Let me be as a tune-swept fiddlestring
That feels the Master Melody--and snaps.

I had wanted to say that my song was far too painful to sing.

I had wanted to say that my song was far too painful to sing.