We who have heard the singing of the stars,
The symphony from lilting robin-throats,
The laughter of the hills devoid of scars,
Now hear the laugh of avarice that gloats.
The atavistic mirth that chills the soul
From mouths of grasping men with claws uncurled
To still the pulse of love--make earth unwhole,
Drowns out the Master's lyric in the world.
Yet as we listen to the ruthless tongues
We see ethereal candles brightly gleam,
And strive to climb the higher on the rungs
Reaching to Heaven to fulfill a dream.
We toil to heal the gaping greed-made scars--
We who have heard the singing of the stars.
