Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE INDIAN BASKET WEAVER, by CAREY YATES BUSBY



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THE INDIAN BASKET WEAVER, by            
First Line: The voice of my singing is dumb
Last Line: Do songs from my silent heart spring.
Subject(s): Birds; Melodies; Singing & Singers; Songs


The voice of my singing is dumb.
My passion for beauty is numb.
Not solely by singing and rhyme
Do rhythms of melody come.

I weave all my songs in disguise,
Of rivers and mountains and skies,
Of deserts and valleys and hills
Of all things wherein beauty lies;

The graceful arcades of a shell,
The plumage of birds in the dell,
The crest of a bounding deer,
The wild bee's honeyfilled cell.

I see in the butterfly's wing
A song for a singer to sing.
In rhythms of symbol and color
Do songs from my silent heart spring.





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