A breath of passing air, a breeze
Soft-whispering, beams of light
Quick through the clouds then gone, the sea’s
Swift shimmer on a moonlit night.
How words are like! We speak – they rise
On manifold rays unseen,
Are caught by winds to boundless skies
Or murmur of a mood serene.
These subtle things, these gossamer,
These weightless thoughts of ours
Seem nothing; yet a word may stir
A heart for restless hours,
Enrich the poor, uplift the weak,
Or paint a universe,
Cross many thousand years may speak
Deep truths, and wisdom still disburse.
Over waters silent, it is said,
The Demiurge once passed,
Who spoke a word and with it fed
The world – and instantly were cast
The sweetest harmonies ever heard,
And those unheard more sweet:
The songs which burst from beast and bird,
And those which souls alone can meet.
These droplets of the quenchless fount
Of creativity,
Have issued forth beyond all count
Since humankind’s nativity;
Just so, must poets to the end
Sing beautifully and bold,
Till all as poets comprehend,
Or human hearts fall cold.
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