The Poet Poem by William Bell Scott

The poet has been called of old,
Maker, seeker, finder, singer:
Which of these names, I would be told,
Best describes our best joy bringer.

Maker? not more than he or she
Who makes your gloves or makes my tea.
Seeker? yes, too oft I fear,
So call not him we hold so dear.
Singer? never is he set
To music but it makes him fret.
Finder? yes, he finds the word
We leap to meet whenever heard,
The best of living words, that linger
In the warmth about the heart,
Warm it comes beneath his finger,
Never more with it we part.