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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. The Divan
  3. Uncertain Sounds
  4. How are Songs Begot and Bred?
  5. The Serenade of Ma-Han-Shan


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