For ever, since my childish look
Could rest on Nature's pictured books
For ever, since my childish tongue
Could name the themes our bards have sung
So long, the sweetness of their singing
Hath been to me a rapture bringing
Yet ask me not the reason why
I have delight in minstrelsy
I know that much whereof I sing
Is shapen but for vanishing
I know that summer's flower and leaf
And shine and shade are very brief
And that the heart they brighten, may
Before them all, be sheathed in clay! -
I do not know the reason why
I have delight in minstrelsy
A few there are, whose smile and praise
My minstrel hope, would kindly raise
But, of those few -- Death may impress
The lips of some with silentness
While some may friendship's faith resign
And heed no more a song of mine. -
Ask not, ask not the reason why
I have delight in minstrelsy
The sweetest song that minstrels sing
Will charm not Joy to tarrying
The greenest bay that earth can grow
Will shelter not in burning woe
A thousand voices will not cheer
When one is mute that aye is dear! -
Is there, alas! no reason why
I have delight in minstrelsy
I do not know! The turf is green
Beneath the rain's fast-dropping sheen
Yet asks not why that deeper hue
Doth all its tender leaves renew; -
And I, like-minded, am content
While music to my soul is sent
To question not the reason why
I have delight in minstrelsy
Years pass -- my life with them shall pass
And soon, the cricket in the gras
And summer bird, shall louder sing
Than she who owns a minstrel's string
Oh then may some, the dear and few
Recall her love, whose truth they knew
When all forget to question why
She had delight in minstrelsy
