Should you ask me whence these accents, Whence these scattered words and phrases, Threaded on a ray of gladness, — Gladness that the poor are aided, That their wants will be provided, — Gleaming with the dew of kindness, — Stars that shine through time and distance, With their frequent repetitions, Flights of wild imagination, As of one who strives, but knows not How to help a stricken brother, I would answer, I would tell you, From the heart — I there have heard them, From its childhood's rosy morning, From its night of pain and shadow, From its strength, its noontide glory. Should you ask me how the heartstrings, Could produce such strains and measures, I would answer, I would tell you: In each heart a lute is slumb'ring; All its silvery chords are silent Till the breath of some sweet feeling, Tenderness or purest pity, Sweeps them, like a harp æeolian; Then they sway and softly tremble, And the heart is filled with music. Thus I wrote them as I heard them. Stealing softly through the distance, As in sunbeams I would pen them — Deeds of charity and kindness — Pen them now to glow forever, Through the Here and the Hereafter! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAWYERS KNOW TOO MUCH by CARL SANDBURG TRUST by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN LE ROI EST MORT. VIVE LE ROI! by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT PUTTING THE CREAM IN THE WELL OF VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |