human
This lyre is cast across the dusty way, The common path that common men pursue, I crave like blessing for my shadowy lay, Life's trodden paths with beauty to renew, And cheer the eve of many a toil-stained day. Light it, old sun, wet it, thou common dew, That 'neath men's feet its image still may be While yet it waves above them, living lyre, like thee!