Edgar Lee Masters - Thomas Trevelyan lyrics

READING in Ovid the sorrowful story of Itys, Son of the love of Tereus and Procne, slain For the guilty pa**ion of Tereus for Philomela, The flesh of him served to Tereus by Procne, And the wrath of Tereus, the murderess pursuing Till the gods made Philomela a nightingale, Lute of the rising moon, and Procne a swallow Oh livers and artists of Hellas centuries gone, Sealing in little thuribles dreams and wisdom, Incense beyond all price, forever fragrant, A breath whereof makes clear the eyes of the soul How I inhaled its sweetness here in Spoon River! The thurible opening when I had lived and learned How all of us k** the children of love, and all of us, Knowing not what we do, devour their flesh; And all of us change to singers, although it be But once in our lives, or change—alas!—to swallows, To twitter amid cold winds and falling leaves!