To Elsie Fogerty
On living lips to mould and modulate
The shapes of sound, that each may mirror true
The mystery of the word and breathe it new
Into the entranced ear, warm and intimate;
For heart and mind such beauty to create
As on our English stage may fitly nurse
Its heritage, the glory of voice and verse:
To this you chose your days to dedicate.
You serve that art, you teach its subtle rule
Of rhythmic life. Accept for this to—day
Our homage; and, it may be, turn like one
Who from the hill turns on his homeward way
To look back on the vale, and bountiful
Ripe harvest that his happy toil has sown.
