Poem by Emily Jane Pfeiffer

Broken Speech

RIPE fruit of science—demonstrated fact—
We grasp at thee in trembling expectation,
We humbly wait on thee for explanation:
Words of the Universe, enshrined in act!
Words, pregnant words, but only parts of speech
As yet, curt utterance such as children use,
With meanings struggling through but to confuse,
And hinted signs which soar beyond our reach.

Work on in patience, children of the time,
Who lend your faltering modes to Nature's voice,—
Fulfil your present task; some prize sublime,
Ye wot not of, your hearts may still rejoice,—
Some strain of music shape the wild turmoil,
And consecrate the pauses of your toil. 

1. Etna
2. To a Fledgling Robin
3. Any Husband to Many a Wife
4. Dreaming
5. Transfiguration

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