And Yet You Sing
Is pure voice stilled, vast vision spilled despite
heart's hidden beauty? Hesitant, soothing sting,
stumbling, humble hand sends offering
to show true scope, not stillborn, dimmed delight.
Symphony should spirit sweep, cleave tight,
touch friendship's tendrils, letting loose wound spring
to free the wealth of tenderness within.
Forswear forebodings for swift arrow's flight,
aim feathered well, no longer's doomed to fail.
Why should stored Future pale before sore Past,
feelings forlorn, torn, gusted by ghost gale?
Beyond the pale, once outcast, heart beats fast.
And yet you sing so sweetly, song hope deems
may turn new leaf, spurn grief, to answer dreams.
Jonathan ROBIN's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (And Yet You Sing by Jonathan ROBIN )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(January 30, 1935 – September 14, 1984)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
(18 February 1934 – 17 November 1992)
- Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland
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