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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:
  1. The Sledge at the Gate
  2. To Edmund Clarence Stedman
  3. The Night Before the Bridal
  4. The Divan
  5. Uncertain Sounds

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