On A Lady Singing

By Isaac Rosenberg

She bade us listen to the singing lark
In tones far sweeter than its own:
For fear that she should cease and leave us dark
We built the bird a feigned throne,
Shrined in her gracious glory-giving ways
From sceptred hands of starred humility--
Praising herself the more in giving praise
To music less than she.

Friday, April 19th, 2024