The Voice Speaks
(in reply to Rupert Brooke’s The Voice)
Late in the dusk, in the ancient woods
I saw a poet on my stroll
In desp’rate search for solitude,
At one with all and deep of soul.
I bid him “Ho !” and “What a view !”
But he just sighed at ‘one-of-those’.
From lofty heights, his dagger-eyes
Shot down along his haughty nose.
So strange, we took so diff’rently
To seeing beauty silver-pearled –
When I see set a sun so soft,
I want to share it with the world.
I guess for really clever chaps,
We little people must appal –
There’s some so full of inner peace,
They need no other folks at all.