The Singing Man A Book of Songs and Shadows By Josephine Preston Peabody THE SINGING MAN I He sang above the vineyards of the world. And after him the vines with woven handsClambered and clung, and everywhere unfurled Triumphing green above the barren lands;Till high as gardens grow, he climbed, he stood, Sun-crowned with life and strength, and singing toil, And looked upon his work; and it was good: The corn, the wine, the oil. He sang above the noon. The topmost cleft That grudged him footing on the mountain scarsHe planted and despaired not; till he left His vines soft breathing to the host of stars.He wrought, he tilled; and even as he sang, The creatures of his planting laughed to scornThe ancient threat of deserts where there sprang The wine, the oil, the corn! He sang not for abundance.-Over-lords Took of his tilth. Yet was there still to reap, The portion of his labor; dear rewards Of sunlit day, and bread, and human sleep.He sang for strength; for glory of the light. He dreamed above the furrows, 'They are mine!'When all he wrought stood fair before his sight With corn, and oil, and wine. Truly, the light is sweet Yea, and a pleasant thing It is to see the Sun. And that a man should eat His bread that he hath won;- (So is it sung and said), That he should take and keep, After his laboring, The portion of his labor in his bread, His bread that he hath won; Yea, and in quiet sleep, When all is done. He sang; above the burden and the heat, Above all seasons with their fitful grace;Above the chance and change that led his feet To this last ambush of the Market-place.'Enough for him, ' they said-and still they say- 'A crust, with air to breathe, and sun to shine;He asks no more!'-Before they took away The corn, the oil, the wine. He sang. No more he sings now, anywhere. Light was enough, before he was undone.They knew it well, who took away the air, -Who took away the sun;Who took, to serve their soul-devouring greed, Himself, his breath, his bread-the goad of toil;-Who have and hold, before the eyes of Need, The corn, the wine, -the oil! Truly, one thing is sweet Of things beneath the Sun;This, that a man should earn his bread and eat, Rejoicing in his work which he hath done. What shall be sung or said Of desolate deceit. When others take his bread; His and his children's bread?- And the laborer hath none.This, for his portion now, of all that he hath done. He earns; and others eat. He starves;-they sit at meat Who have taken away the Sun. II Seek him now, that singing Man.Look for him, Look for himIn the mills, In the mines;Where the very daylight pines, -He, who once did walk the hills...! We are delighted to publish this classic book as part of our extensive Classic Library collection. Many of the books in our collection have been out of print for decades, and therefore have not been accessible to the general public. The aim of our publishing program is to facilitate rapid access to this vast reservoir of literature, and our view is that this is a significant literary work, which deserves to be brought back into print after many decades. The contents of the vast majority of titles in the Classic Library have been scanned from the original works. To ensure a high quality product, each title has been meticulously hand curated by our staff. Our philosophy has been guided by a desire to provide the reader with a book that is as close as possible to ownership of the original work. We hope that you will enjoy this wonderful classic work, and that for you it becomes an enriching experience.