The Rare Single

Through the life-giving light of the morning,
That never a bell will toll,
Who is singing so joyous and freely
With notes that arouse my soul?

For such joy it is, truly, to hear it,
Such rapture out-soaring through air,
And with never a crowd-yell to steer it—
One soul-solo melody rare.

Even so, if flown word could be given
To wing with its reach on up high,
The named flight of its soul would find being
In the pride of ecstatic “I!”

It’s a pride that is free from comparing,
It’s an “I” that is high and alone;
It’s a self that is selfishness wearing,
Self-crowned on its self-making throne.

“Ah-ah, ah-Ah, ah-Ah” it flies,
“Aye-aye and aye-Aye” it flows!
And the “ah” is sweet, and the “aye” is right,
As up and on up it goes!

Now it’s winding off faint through the forest,
While chatter of birds grows strong,
And I stand here amazed that I heard it—
One singular, self-loving song!

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