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The Reward Of Song - Poem by Alfred Noyes

_Why do we make our music?_ Oh, blind dark strings reply: Because we dwell in a strange land And remember a lost sky. We ask no leaf of the laurel, We know what fame is worth; But our songs break out of our winter As the flowers break out on the earth. And we dream of the unknown comrade, In the days when we lie dead, Who shall open our book in the sunlight, And read, as ourselves have read, On a…
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