'SING of the things we know and love.'
But the singer made reply,
'There are greater lands to tell you of
And stars to steer you by.'

So he sang of worlds austere and strange,
Of seas so wildly wide
That only the journeying swan might range
The marches of the tide.

Men heard the thunder and the rain,
The tempest in his song,
They turned to their hearth fires again
And thought the night too long.

And only one man dared to hear
The deeds that singer told;
Against the stars he swung his spear
And died ere he was old.