Herein all words are living things that die, -- Whose spirits are the memories that throng The night, and haunt our dreaming, by and by, With half-remembered cadences of song. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESSAY ON STONE by HAYDEN CARRUTH SPRING NOTES FROM ROBIN HILL by HAYDEN CARRUTH IN QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE CROSS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A GUY I KNOW ON 47TH AND COTTAGE by CLARENCE MAJOR |