the whispering river;
He hearkened also to ancient tales, and made them young again with his
singing.

Then a flaming arrow of death fell on his flock, and pierced the heart
of his dearest!
Silent the music now, as the shepherd entered the mystical temple of
sorrow:
Long he tarried in darkness there: but when he came out he was singing.

And I saw the faces of men and women and children silently turning toward
him;
The youth setting out on the journey of life, and the old man waiting
beside the last mile-stone;
The toiler sweating beneath his load; and the happy mother rocking her
cradle;

The lonely sailor on far-off seas; and the gray-minded scholar in his
book-room;
The mill-hand bound to a clacking machine; and the hunter in the forest;
And the solitary soul hiding friendless in the wilderness of the city;

Many human faces, full of care and longing, were drawn irresistibly
toward him,
By the charm of something known to every heart, yet very strange and
lovely,
And at the sound of his singing wonderfully all their faces were
lightened.

"Why do you listen, O you people, to this old and world-worn music?