Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, UNWRITTEN, by BERNICE LESBIA KENYON

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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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First Line: Numberless letters that form across the page
Last Line: But fold my hands till the terrible joy is past?
Alternate Author Name(s): Gilkyson, Walter, Mrs.
Subject(s): Letters; Memory; Old Age; Writing & Writers

NUMBERLESS letters that form across the page
Under my hand, thus, darkly and queer and small,
You can spell no part of the things I would say at all,
Nor free my thoughts that are trapped like mice in a cage.

You will never shine in colors, nor sing in themes
Most intricate-clear, nor stand up pointed and high;
Reaching with trees, or moving with birds that fly,
Or showing afar and vast with the form of dreams.

Very strange is this joy that cannot be told;
Very clear is its beauty and sharp its pain;
But very bitter are thoughts that clamor in vain—
That cannot escape, but must wait, and wait, and grow old.

O dreadful letters that write yourselves so fast,
Yet spell no word of the freedom I struggle for!
Shall I break the pen, and sit back, and write no more,
But fold my hands till the terrible joy is past?

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