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Henry Van Dyke - Longfellow
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In a great land, a new land, a land full of labour 
     and riches and confusion,
Where there were many running to and fro, and
     shouting, and striving together,
In the midst of the hurry and the troubled noise, 
     I heard the voice of one singing. 

"What are you doing there, O man, singing
     quietly amid all this tumult?
This is the time for new inventions, mighty
     shoutings, and blowings of the trumpet." 
But he answered, "I am only shepherding my
     sheep with music." 

So he went along his chosen way, keeping his
     little flock around him;
And he paused to listen, now and then, beside
     the antique fountains,
Where the faces of forgotten gods were refreshed
     with musically falling waters; 

Or he sat for a while at the blacksmith`s door,
     and heard the cling-clang of the anvils; 
Or he rested beneath old steeples full of bells,
     that showered their chimes upon him;
Or he walked along the border of the sea, 
     drinking in the long roar of the billows; 

Or he sunned himself in the pine-scented ship-
     yard, amid the tattoo of the mallets;
Or he leaned on the rail of the bridge, letting
     his thoughts flow with 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 grey-
     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 that singing wonderfully
     all their faces were lightened. 

"Why do you listen, O you people, to this old
     and world-worn music?
This is not for you, in the splendour of a new
     age, in the democratic triumph!
Listen to the clashing cymbals, the big drums, the
     brazen trumpets of your poets." 

But the people made no answer, following in
     their hearts the simpler music:
For it seemed to them, noise-weary, nothing
     could be better worth the hearing
Than the melodies which brought sweet order
     into life`s confusion. 

So the shepherd sang his way along, until he
     came unto a mountain:
And I know not surely whether it was called
     Parnassus,
But he climbed it out of sight, and still I heard
     the voice of one singing.
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