Rhymes Of A Rolling Stone - Prelude

I sing no idle songs of dalliance days,          No dreams Elysian inspire my rhyming;          I have no Celia to enchant my lays,          No pipes of Pan have set my heart to chiming.          I am no wordsmith dripping gems divine          Into the golden chalice of a sonnet;          If love songs witch you, close this book of mine,             Waste no time on it.          Yet bring I to my work an eager joy,          A lusty love of life and all things human;          Still in me leaps the wonder of the boy,          A pride in man, a deathless faith in woman.          Still red blood calls, still rings the valiant fray;          Adventure beacons through the summer gloaming:          Oh long and long and long will be the day             Ere I come homing!          This earth is ours to love: lute, brush and pen,          They are but tongues to tell of life sincerely;          The thaumaturgic Day, the might of men,          O God of Scribes, grant us to grave them clearly!          Grant heart that homes in heart, then all is well.          Honey is honey-sweet, howe'er the hiving.          Each to his work, his wage at evening bell             The strength of striving.