WORDS are the stones I use in building, My house will be strong without fillet or gilding; I dig in the crypt of the centuries Where the earth is rich in ebonies. I burrow for words in the quarry of time, In the heart of the ancient hills for rhyme. There are veins of Beauty the sages have known: Milton worked where the marble shone; Our Lincoln found what he liked in the clay Of the common fields where the stones are grey. So every spirit must find a way And delve for the treasure that seems its own. But you! what are words, what are words to you! Not stone nor metal precious and true, Nor blocks to serve in a hallowed shrine, But seductive jewels cut subtle and fine, Spangles you wear to glitter and shine; I know the worth of your words to you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OPEN, TIME by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY WHERE SHALL THE BABY'S DIMPLE BE? by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND FOR DECORATION DAY: 1898-1899 by RUPERT HUGHES A COWBOY'S HOPELESS LOVE by JAMES BARTON ADAMS WOONE SMILE MWORE by WILLIAM BARNES THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: NEWS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |