Joy's the shyest bird
Mortal ever heard;
Listen rapt and silent while he sings;
Do not seek to see,
Less the vision be
But a flutter of departing wings. Straight down out of heaven
Drops the fiery leaven,
Beating, burning, rising in his breast;
Never, never long
Canst thou bear the song,
All too high for labour or for rest. Hope can sit and sing
With a folded wing,
Long contented in a narrow cage;
Patience on the nest,
Hour by hour will rest,
Brooding tender things in hermitage. Singers true and sweet,
Mockers bright and fleet,
Close about thy door they flit and call;
One that will not stay
Draws thy heart away;
Listen! Listen! It is more than all.