Eleanor Rogers Cox

(United States)

To A Dead Poet - Poem by Eleanor Rogers Cox

I SPEAK your name—a magic thing—
Jocund April takes my hand,
Golden birds begin to sing,
Laughter fills the silver land.

I speak your name—a Matin bell—
Buoyant, godlike, you arise—
Flinging far the slumber-spell
Laid upon your heart and eyes.

I speak your name—and Summer’s here—
Glad beyond all Summers gone—
And you are shining like the spear
God fashioned in His first day’s dawn.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 22, 2010



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