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THE COMING OF THE WORDS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Wistful words, singing words, come to me at times
Last Line: Of love, and give my longing a presence and a name!
Subject(s): Language; Life; Love; Soul; Tears; Words; Vocabulary


WISTFUL words, singing words, come to me at times,
And I seize them lovingly, weave them into rhymes;
The brave things, the fair things, that in the world I see
I marry to these winsome words in song and balladry.

Some words they stand for sorrow, and some for tenderness;
They touch the fount of tears, they fall as soft as a caress;
They ring out like a trumpet, or flute-like plain and plead,
They tell of noble happenings and glorify the deed.

Sweet words, they are the saviors of my dumbstricken soul,
That give me moving power and vision of the goal;
They heal the helpless cripple and make the feeble strong
And break away the prison bars for one behind them long.

I can not know the moment when their coming may be set,
I can but dumbly wait and watch, lest haply I forget
The bliss that means their breathing, the cadence of the air
They play upon the pipes of Life to make it smooth and fair.

But oh, the joy of weaving, and oh, the beating heart
When come these high-born visitors from some dim place apart
To bide with me a little, and lift me on a flame
Of love, and give my longing a presence and a name!





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