The Poet

Back of his splendid song, O think of the songs unsung!
Back of his painted dreams, the dreams that he never reveals!
Behind each lyric of rapture
The songs that he cannot capture,
Save for his own delight, to keep his heart still young!

But the songs that he never can sing--
Children created of one glad song that tells us what he feels--
Some day they shall be uttered,
When far his soul has fluttered,
Sung by an unborn singer in a new and wonderful Spring!

by Charles Hanson Towne

Other poems of CHARLES HANSON TOWNE (106)

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