What Might Have Been Poem by Thomas Noel Smith

Oh, write for me the music
That swells within your breast
Yes, dare to run the race
And be among the best.

Stand away from the murmuring crowd
And take fate by the hand.
Listen not to earthly logic
That’s built on shifting sand.
.
The screech owl hums in the sackcloth night
Where the vapid eyes of men
Look toward words on granite stones
Praying they might start again

Living dreams die too soon
If hopes aren’t tied to life
A stagnant world depends on you
To not embrace a sphere of strife

Do not heed the hollow sounds
Of disheartened crying men
Make a music of your own
Never sing “What might have been.”
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