Carl Domingo

The Thinker's Childhood

Betimes a silent thought itself conceive
There error was (how did itself redeem?)
The seed of creation did not receive
A place of rightly birth instead by dream
Was never born, indeed a tragic song-
A night of sooth be say'd: foretold, unheard
I bore of tales, I heard of lively songs
When silent voices would lay goodly word
Unwrit they were, unwrit were lovely songs-

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