The Serpent Poem by Edward Webb

There is a serpent that hides in the damp,
of a lipped cavern,

long, moist and venomous its known as the tongue,

It can kill like a sharpened sword
and draw not a drop of blood,

weaves the air of which we depend and spins a silken word,

to the ears of another heard,
its venom travels as a wave,
in forms of barbed syllables it hisses from its cave,

some who have minds unheard,
are but to it a traitorous slave,

and no serpents words shall meet a heart,
once ears are put to grave,

for sounds are best when heard as positive sound,
a fact invisible as music, just like the truth told by Bells