WORDS

Oh words, oh words, and shall you rule

The world? What is it but the tongue

That doth proclaim a man a fool,

So that his best songs go unsung,

So that his dreams are sent to school

And all die young.

There pass the trav’lling dreams, and these

My soul adores—my words condemn—

Oh, I would fall upon my knees

To kiss their golden garments’ hem,

Yet words do lie in wait to seize

And murder them.

To-night the swinging stars shall plumb

The silence of the sky. And herds

Of plumèd winds like huntsmen come

To hunt with dreams the restless birds.

To-night the moon shall strike you dumb,

Oh words, oh words....