A Minor Poet Poem by Stephen Vincent Benet

A Minor Poet

Rating: 3.7


I am a shell. From me you shall not hear
The splendid tramplings of insistent drums,
The orbed gold of the viol's voice that comes,
Heavy with radiance, languorous and clear.
Yet, if you hold me close against the ear,
A dim, far whisper rises clamorously,
The thunderous beat and passion of the sea,
The slow surge of the tides that drown the mere.

Others with subtle hands may pluck the strings,
Making even Love in music audible,
And earth one glory. I am but a shell
That moves, not of itself, and moving sings;
Leaving a fragrance, faint as wine new-shed,
A tremulous murmur from great days long dead.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Fabrizio Frosini 03 March 2016

we are all 'minor' poets.. but we can write poetry anyway..

4 0 Reply
Fabrizio Frosini 03 March 2016

'' A tremulous murmur from great days long dead. '' '' Un mormorio tremulo, eco di giorni importanti, ormai trascorsi. '' it recalls the (CMB) cosmic microwave background.. ;)

7 0 Reply
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Stephen Vincent Benet

Stephen Vincent Benet

Pennsylvania / United States
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