@3"I should like the memory of my life to give out the sound of a flute." -- The Choir Invisible.@1 I am not dead, I think, But all unlessoned where the dead should know, For every pipe that plays is still the link For thought to come and go! The lyre strings are dear, And bring me to a halting place of dreams, That every convoy takes down every year, And every ghost redeems. And all the organ tones Of ancientry still pass my narrow door, And I march with the chords one longer owns When longer heard before! And harp by harp I keep, With @3falas@1 that the day and night have sung, Unto immitigable things of sleep, Unto vales restrung. But oh, the flute to me Brings the abiding-places of the past As close -- as close -- as shipwreck to the sea, Or flesh to dust made fast! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNTITLED, 1968; FOR MARK ROTHKO by JAMES GALVIN TO WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JAMES GARBER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HEMLOCK AND CEDAR by CARL SANDBURG |