But still, still . . . In stillness mystery calls, though calling no one, being simply there, somewhere I cannot tell, singing, not near, not far, but song always, an ayre that falls on my silence as if heard in the long halls of eternity, of existence, this that I hear in the incomprehensibility we share and cannot speak, a touch, a glance that forestalls the foreignness we felt before we came into our knowing one another, yet no touch nor glance in fact, nothing definable, no name in materiality, only this singing, such that together silently we hear and we belong at last, always this sonetto, this little song . . . Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JACOBITE'S TOAST (TO AN OFFICER IN THE ARMY) by JOHN BYROM SONG FOR THE LUDDITES by GEORGE GORDON BYRON EXILE OF ERIN by THOMAS CAMPBELL A THOUGHT IN TWO MOODS by THOMAS HARDY SMALL BEGINNINGS by CHARLES MACKAY BINGEN ON THE RHINE by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON |