SURE 'twas some God, in kindness first to men, Taught us the curious art to use the pen. 'Tis strange the speaking quill should, without noise, Express the various tones of human voice. Of loudest accents we no sound retain, Voice to its native air resolves again; Yet tho' as wind words seem to pass away, By pen we can their very echoes stay. When we from other converse are confin'd, This can reveal the secrets of the mind: All authors must to it their praises own, For 'twas the pen that made their labours known. Good acts with bad tradition would confound, But what we writ is kept entire and sound: Of this ingenious art Fame loudly sings, Which gives us lasting words, and lasting things. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR THE INVESTITURE by CECIL DAY LEWIS THE YANKEE'S RETURN FROM CAMP [JUNE, 1775] by EDWARD BANGS SILENCE SINGS by THOMAS STURGE MOORE COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SIDE NEAR CALAIS [AUGUST 1802] by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1802 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |