John
Alford .
But the bloom
of the vale is
vanished
And wan
is the winter 's
brow ,
0
let not songs
be
banished
From
your
lips now ,
For we have need of your
voices ,
Need of the
fire
of your
lays,
When
none but the prophet
rejoices
Who
counts
not the
days.
Arise
ye bards, that
ye
quicken
The pulse
of our
soul, that the
strong
In
your music
be
stronger , the
stricken
Take heart
in
your
song !
HOAR
FROST.
AIRIES
in
the night
have
been ,
T
With
the moon
alone
to
see ,
And about
the
ivy's
green
Wrought
a
silver
filigree ;
Bound
the
jasmin
to the wall
With
a
flimsy ,
flashing
wire ;
Turned
the
pampas
grasses
tall
Into
standing
tongues
of
fire ;