A Rehearsal For A Song Poem by Will Barber
A Rehearsal For A Song
If I could sing - my heart,
Then, never would be sung.
If I knew my heart,
It never would be shown.
If I could sing, no song could e'er express
What was written in that text.
If I sang at all, could I meet such test,
If I could heed the call -
If my words meant anything at all -
My ears would then be blest.
Only works of peace, betimes -
Only hymns of praise - deserve
Rehearsal, in these trying times.
Sing louder, then - and serve,
And wait - and sing
Of morning, day and night;
And praise our sight,
The endless light
Amid the night
In which we sing -
The endless ring
Unbroken, still sustained.
If I could sing my heart
While innocence remained -
However distant in the past,
Or in the world - if I so could sing,
My praise unconstrained -
If I had such art - so would I sing.
Beautiful lyricals...Somehow I can picture PERRY COMO, OR NAT KING COLE, standing on Stage, with one hand atop of a Hammond Grand piano, belting your words out to a sell-out at Radio City Music Hall in Manhattan.... Mighty Fine Write, Will! '''''''''''''''''''''''''FJR
Sing and the heart is lifted, dance and the soul shall fly Love duncan X
Excellent Will, stanza 5 just explodes! A real feeling of a pent up need to sing in this, excellent! Patrick
If I could sing, no song could e'er express What was written in that text. (Nice rhyme of express and text) Only hymns of praise - deserve Rehearsal, in these trying times. I like these lines. If I am right, despite this argument (a kind of rehearsal) with yourself, you have decided that it is best to sing. In other words these are troubling times and there are many reasons not to sing, but I detect that, at least there is some hope (our sight, the endless light) to sing. An enjoyable poem to read. The title is very inviting.
'If my words meant anything at all -' Your heart sings with joy and innocence, Will, in all your words and music. Your words mean more than anything and everything as they reflect the beauty of your sweet soul! I'm still glad that you're not perfect, however... Esther : ]
Only works of peace, betimes - Only hymns of praise The thought occured to me that singing birds never sing of sad or sorrowful things - are always happy and joyful.
I would sing, oh yes I would, give me a stage and set me loose. I love this poem, I think it's all about me.---Melvina---
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/27/2024 2:00:57 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A musical soul was born to sing. And so you have in this extraordinary poem with great grace and eloquence. You have my applause for a very memorable performance. Your poetess friend, Sandra