Oh artful group of words, where lies, your charm?
What makes your victims fall beneath your spell?
Lifts them to heaven or casts them into hell
And fills their soul with passion and alarm..
How do you sooth the sick and ease their pain?
How do you stir the young to martial strife
And justify the taking of a life
But to return and talk of love again.
You are but marks upon a printed page
Or waves of sound that agitate the air.
Yet you arouse emotions foul or fair
In any man, in any land, in any age.
And while on Earth there beats a human heart.
It will in meter throb, to praise your art.
© copyright 1956 H.St.V.Beechey