Poetry Explorer


Classic and Contemporary Poetry


WORDS by SAMUEL ALFRED BEADLE

First Line: WORDS ARE BUT LEAVES TO THE TREE OF MINE
Last Line: OR THE CINDERED DROSS OF HELL.
Subject(s): LANGUAGE; WORDS; VOCABULARY;

Words are but leaves to the tree of mind;
Where breezy fancy plays;
Or echoes from the souls which find
Expression's subtle ways.

A beaming lamp to idea's feet
Where sentinel thought abides;
Or a guide to the soul's retreat,
Where master man presides.

A jewel trembling on the tongue,
The index of the heart;
The black mask from the spirit wrung,
Revealing every part.

A ship upon the sea of life,
With all her sails aswell;
Her cargo being the bread of life,
Or the cindered dross of hell.



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