SURE 'twas some God, in kindness first to men, Taught us the curious art to use the pen. 'Tis strange the speaking quill should, without noise, Express the various tones of human voice. Of loudest accents we no sound retain, Voice to its native air resolves again; Yet tho' as wind words seem to pass away, By pen we can their very echoes stay. When we from other converse are confin'd, This can reveal the secrets of the mind: All authors must to it their praises own, For 'twas the pen that made their labours known. Good acts with bad tradition would confound, But what we writ is kept entire and sound: Of this ingenious art Fame loudly sings, Which gives us lasting words, and lasting things. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOU ARE FIRE EATERS by MARIANNE MOORE SPRING'S NEBRASKA by KAREN SWENSON THE FORERUNNERS by GEORGE HERBERT THE LORD OF BURLEIGH by ALFRED TENNYSON A DISMISSAL by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON DIVINE LOVE; THE ESSENTIAL CHARACTERISTIC OF TRUE RELIGION by JOHN BYROM |