Singer And Song

A singer sang in sorrow long
And breathed his life into his song.

Unknown, unheard, the song went wide,
Until the singer, starving, died.

Now in their hearts the nations write
And wear the singer's song of might.

Ah, singers fail and fall from view,
But songs are always, always new!

If garlands none to singers cling,
Bays wreathe above the songs they sing.

Freeman E. Miller The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.