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History

Rating: 4.6

Time has stored all, but keeps his chronicle
In secret, beyond all our probe or gauge.
There flows the human story, vast and full;
And here a muddy trickle smears the page.

The things our hearts remember make a sound
So faint; so loud the menace and applause.
The gleaners come, with eyes upon the ground
After Oblivion's harvest, picking straws.

What is man, if this only has told his tale,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kumarmani Mahakul 08 September 2017

Things made in heart keep memories. These make sound in heart. Very neatly and amazingly drafted and shared smooth poem this is. Also this is thoughtful.10

1 1 Reply
Subhas Chandra Chakra 08 September 2017

The things our hearts remember make a sound So faint; so loud the menace and applause. A nice line in this lovely poem. Congrats poet on this day. 10

2 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 08 September 2017

Beyond all our probe! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

0 3 Reply
Bernard F. Asuncion 08 September 2017

Such an interesting sonnet to read... enjoyed....

0 5 Reply
Rajnish Manga 08 September 2017

Exquisitely beautiful sonnet which reflects upon the folly of human nature. Thanks.

1 0 Reply

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