A wealth of silence, that is all. The air
Lacks life and holds no hint of tender spring,
Of flowers wholesome-blowing, birds a-wing,
Of any creature much-alive and fair.
Perhaps you guess a murmur here and there
Among the tomes, each book a gossip thing,
And each in her own tongue,—yet slumbering
Seems more the bookish fashion everywhere.
And yet, could but the souls take flesh again
That wrought these words, their hearts all passion-swirled,
What companies would flock and fill the stage,
Resuming now their old, imperious reign,
Knight, noble, lady, priest, the saint, and sage,
The valor, bloom, and wisdom of a world!
Lacks life and holds no hint of tender spring,
Of flowers wholesome-blowing, birds a-wing,
Of any creature much-alive and fair.
Perhaps you guess a murmur here and there
Among the tomes, each book a gossip thing,
And each in her own tongue,—yet slumbering
Seems more the bookish fashion everywhere.
And yet, could but the souls take flesh again
That wrought these words, their hearts all passion-swirled,
What companies would flock and fill the stage,
Resuming now their old, imperious reign,
Knight, noble, lady, priest, the saint, and sage,
The valor, bloom, and wisdom of a world!
( Richard E. Burton )
www.ChordsAZ.com