The Thinking Poet



I think we sing the heart’s tune all day long, pianissimo,

But that the tongue’s clickety-clack

- for it must always have its say –

Drowns like a flash-flood on its way,

The music that we sing.

I thought I heard music everywhere as I walked,

But then they talked, and told me I was wrong;

- things are things, and do not sing –

That I must pull myself together,

And that only struck bells ring.

Even so, with all this good advice to curb the vice

I still shall sing my heart’s tune;

- the only tune I know -

And though this imbecility may grow,

An urging voice says: "Go! continue so."