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? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEARS AT RASPBERRY TIME by HAYDEN CARRUTH NO MATTER WHAT, AFTER ALL, AND THAT BEAUTIFUL WORD SO by HAYDEN CARRUTH SONGS FOR TWO SEASONS: 1. AFTER GRAVE ILLNESS by CAROL FROST JULY IN GEORGY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SONG BY THE WINDOW BEFORE BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD DOMESDAY BOOK: MRS. GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |