Lover of women and of words,
1
Driven the wind's way north and south,
Be-fooled by blossoms and by birds,
He wanders with his singing mouth;
Yet wanders not, nor yet is driven,
5
Nor yet be-fooled in any wise,
For unto him a chart is given
Of all the stars in all the skies.
What matters if his feet shall stray,
9
Where small pedestrians keep the track,
He firmly walks the Zodiac,
13
Going his own appointed way;
For never ship upon the sea
Was half so sure of port as he.
Disaster and despair he drinks
17
As men in taverns drinking wine,
For him the lower the sun sinks
So much the earlier shall it shine,
And all the world be blue with morn.
21
For this strange reason was he born:
Out of his folly to be wise,
Out of the bitter to bring sweet,
To sing into a Paradise,
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And fill it full of dancing feet,
The saddest heart, the blackest street.
And striving always in a dream
Word after word secure to place
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In the built music of his scheme,
The mystic pattern of his verse;
To match them with a woman's face,
Or with the ghostly Universe.
Always the words! as he who tries,
34
With his stern finger, string by string,
The wood his bow shall make to sing,
And with one stroke mount up the skies.
Always the words—the words—the words,
38
Lovelier to listen to than birds,
And fairer in their shape and hue
Than any flowers that April knew:
Always the woman and the words,
42
So poets born must, too, be made,
And so their songs shall never fade.