Sometimes, when the light and the mists of the day
_Settle holy and soft on the edge of the night,
When the sights and the sounds of the world melt away,
_And the vision that lives in the soul takes flight,
__That feeling comes on I felt since I was young,
___Of poems unwritten and songs unsung.

Like a shadow that flits across the moonbeams
_Thrills the soul all the more for its dark mystery,
Or the memory in daytime of last night’s dreams,
_Like another world under the surface we see,
__Like that thought that lives on the tip of the tongue,
___Are those poems unwritten and songs unsung.

In the gaze of the lover who grasps for a word
_To embody the feeling that’s shared in the eyes,
Or forgotten strains of a song long unheard
_Whose sad memory deep in the heart still lies,
__Like all the new thoughts that ever have sprung,
___Are those poems unwritten and songs unsung.

It’s there in the child as he sees the sublime
_In the greatness and beauty of life unfurled,
It lives in the instant, but outside of time,
_And comforts the dying as they leave this world;
__It sleeps in all souls though the lyre be unstrung,
___Those poems unwritten and songs unsung.

 

Daniel Leach is a poet living in Houston, Texas. He has spent much of his life fighting for the ideals of classical culture and and poetry. His poems have been published on the 21st century classical poetry website www.thechainedmuse.com. More of his writings can be found here.

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8 Responses

  1. Carole San Miguel

    Great work, Dan. Melancholic AND Hopeful. “Like a prayer” of thanksgiving!

    Reply
  2. David Paul Behrens

    Excellent poem, very well done. It reminds me of this one, from 1978:

    Song Never Sung

    Spiritually deaf and mute and blind,
    Not smelling nor tasting fruits divine,
    Untapped senses, buried deep inside,
    Void of a knowledge, deep and wide.

    Open the door of a chasm, so deep.
    Behold the wonders of beyond, and weep.
    Weep for a joy, wonderful, indeed,
    Grown to blossom from a sacred seed.

    Smell the blossom and taste the fruit.
    Hear the sound of the farthest flute.
    Speak of a beauty, felt deep within.
    Let a touch from without come in.

    See a beauty, not shown to the eye.
    Feel a wind, not blown in the sky.
    Breathe in air, unknown by the lung.
    Hear a song, in a tone never sung.

    (Published by Lone Stars Poetry Magazine, 2017)

    Reply
  3. David Watt

    A lovely poem, Dan. The catching refrain works particularly well.

    Reply
  4. Sally Cook

    Like a firefly in the grass, only a few would stop to notice, and put into words. Like it very much.

    Reply

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