Lyrics Drige - Hyperomm

Drige

Knows he who tills this lonely field
To reap its scanty corn
What mystic fruit his acres yield
At midnight and at morn?
In the long sunny afternoon
The plain was full of ghosts
I wandered up, I wandered down
Beset by pensive hosts
The winding Concord gleamed below
Pouring as wide a flood
As when my brothers long ago
Came with me to the wood
But they are gone, — the holy ones
Who trod with me this lonely vale
The strong, star-bright companions
Are silent, low, and pale
My good, my noble, in their prime
Who made this world the feast it was
Who learned with me the lore of time
Who loved this dwelling-place
They took this valley for their toy
They played with it in every mood
A cell for prayer, a hall for joy
They treated nature as they would
They colored the horizon round
Stars flamed and faded as they bade
All echoes hearkened for their sound
They made the woodlands glad or mad
I touch this flower of silken leaf
Which once our childhood knew
Its soft leaves wound me with a grief
Whose balsam never grew
Hearken to yon pine warbler
Singing aloft in the tree
Hearest thou, O traveller
What he singeth to me?
Not unless God made sharp thine ear
With sorrow such as mine
Out of that delicate lay couldst thou
The heavy dirge divine
Go, lonely man, it saith
They loved thee from their birth
Their hands were pure, and pure their faith
There are no such hearts on earth
Ye drew one mother’s milk
One chamber held ye all
A very tender history
Did in your childhood fall
Ye cannot unlock your heart
The key is gone with them
The silent organ loudest chants
The master’s requiem
Poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson