And sunk in carnal bliss,
E'er dreamed a dream so fraught with heav'n
And gave us verse like this.
No lute attuned for flattery's ear,
Or struck by greed for gain,
E'er woke such cadences so sweet
Or played so rare a straing.
Not men, but Angels sing like this,
Lit with celestial fire,
And weep the strings with airy touch
Of an immortal lyre.
Published in Opportunity, March, 1924