Norman Rowland Gale

(1862-1942 / England)

Content - Poem by Norman Rowland Gale

THOUGH singing but the shy and sweet
Untrod by multitudes of feet,
Songs bounded by the brook and wheat,
I have not failed in this,
The only lure my woodland note,
To win all England’s whitest throat!
O bards in gold and fire who wrote,
Be yours all other bliss!

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Read poems about / on: fire, song

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004

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