'TIS a strange mystery, the power of words! Life is in them, and death. A word can send The crimson colour hurrying to the cheek. Hurrying with many meanings; or can turn The current cold and deadly to the heart. Anger and fear are in them; grief and joy Are on their sound; yet slight, impalpable: -- A word is but a breath of passing air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TYRANNICK [TYRANNIC] LOVE: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN SONNET: 19. ON HIS BLINDNESS by JOHN MILTON TO CHLOE; AN APOLOGY FOR GOING INTO THE COUNTRY by JOHN WOLCOTT THE ORPHAN'S COMPLAINT by ANNABEL HANNA BANES |