 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
A Word
The silent history of a word,
Borne on Time's stream along,
Has never yet been sung or heard,
It asks the voice of song.
Borne on Time's stream along,
Has never yet been sung or heard,
It asks the voice of song.
'Twas born from the soul's calm deep,
Smit by the chastening rod;
As Eve, flesh-formed from Adam's sleep,
Touched by the hand of God.
Smit by the chastening rod;
As Eve, flesh-formed from Adam's sleep,
Touched by the hand of God.
It wandered o'er the unyielding earth,
By war and famine worn,
A stranger seen, of unknown birth;
Though night, a child of morn.
By war and famine worn,
A stranger seen, of unknown birth;
Though night, a child of morn.
213
'Twas welcomed in the lowly cot,
'Twas heard in kingly hall;
And men their arms and strife forgot,
In listening to its call.
'Twas heard in kingly hall;
And men their arms and strife forgot,
In listening to its call.
It told of peace that would not fail,
Of love that could not die;
'Twas felt beneath the warrior's mail,
It dried the mourner's eye.
Of love that could not die;
'Twas felt beneath the warrior's mail,
It dried the mourner's eye.
I looked along the path it took,
As told by legends old
Repeated oft from book to book;
It shone as shining gold.
As told by legends old
Repeated oft from book to book;
It shone as shining gold.
A furrow through earth's barren field,
Ploughed deep, and sown with care;
But none to notice what it yields,
Or in its harvest share.
Ploughed deep, and sown with care;
But none to notice what it yields,
Or in its harvest share.
Poem No. 561; early 1840
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