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Poem by Richard Henry Stoddard Silent Songs IF I could ever sing the songs Within me day and night, The only fit accompaniment Would be a lute of light. A thousand dreamy melodies, Begot with pleasant pain, Like incantations float around The chambers of my brain. But when I strive to utter one, It mocks my feeble art, And leaves me silent, with the thorns Of Music in my heart! Richard Henry Stoddard Richard Henry Stoddard's other poems: 1188 Views |
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