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!

1. How are Songs Begot and Bred?
2. The Sledge at the Gate
3. It Never Comes Again
4. Lincoln's Birthday
5. Day and Night My Thoughts Incline

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