Florence Price – The Poet and His Song

Florence Price – The Poet and His Song Lyrics

Artist: Florence Price
Song: The Poet and His Song

A song is but a little thing
And yet what joy it is to sing!
In hours of toil it gives me zest
And when at eve I long for rest;

When cows come home along the bars
And in the fold I hear the bell
As Night, the shepherd, herds his stars
I sing my song, and all is well

There are no ears to hear my lays
No lips to lift a word of praise;
But still, with faith unfaltering
I live and laugh and love and sing

What matters yon unheeding throng?
They cannot feel my spirit’s spell
Since life is sweet and love is long
I sing my song, and all is well

My days are never days of easе;
I till my ground and prune my trees
When ripenеd gold is all the plain
I put my sickle to the grain

I labor hard, and toil and sweat
While others dream within the dell;
But even while my brow is wet
I sing my song, and all is well

Sometimes the sun, unkindly hot
My garden makes a desert spot;
Sometimes a blight upon the tree
Takes all my fruit away from me;

And then with throes of bitter pain
Rebellious passions rise and swell;
But—life is more than fruit or grain
And so I sing, and all is well
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Florence Price Lyrics – The Poet and His Song

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Release Year: 2021