The voice of my singing is dumb. My passion for beauty is numb. Not solely by singing and rhyme Do rhythms of melody come. I weave all my songs in disguise, Of rivers and mountains and skies, Of deserts and valleys and hills Of all things wherein beauty lies; The graceful arcades of a shell, The plumage of birds in the dell, The crest of a bounding deer, The wild bee's honeyfilled cell. I see in the butterfly's wing A song for a singer to sing. In rhythms of symbol and color Do songs from my silent heart spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN AN ARTIST'S STUDIO by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI JAPANESE MAPLES by JENNIE SCOTT ARNOLD OCTOBER FROM A BUS WINDOW by ELLA MCBRIDE BALLEW HIS WORST ENEMY by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PSALM 13 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE COACHMAN'S YARN by EDWIN JAMES BRADY THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: 'CARPE DIEM' by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |