Why am I on this hill
Capable in body and strong in will
My musical instrument well strung
Why is my voice yet quiet and still.
Why not sing the song
I was sent to sing.
My modeling has not just begun,
The price was paid, a painful thing
Artistic work at the potters wheel
Time and temperature in the fiery kiln.
No need to seek another comparison.
The book has been written, a map of instruction.
I will raise my voice, loud and clear,
And sing the song I came to sing,
To celebrate the birth of Christ,
In thanksgiving that God is love.
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Comments about this poem (An Original by Nathaleen Cobb )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949)
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