On Language
I was but a young boy
the very first time I heard
the sacred charm and mystery
of a foreign word
on that day I imagined
this language, new, unknown
was altogether different than
this one I call my own
it must not have the room for terms
of filth, nor hate, nor greed
nor any of the other speech
a kind man wouldn't need
they surely have no use in these
for sarcasms and jeer
these things so often spoken
by a person lost in fear
for those who speak this language
would never lie to friends
for in a truthful language
there are no means to ends
I was older when I learned
another language, new, unknown
is just another way of saying
the same words as my own
If there can be some goodness
in a language, new, unknown,
it's that one whispered softly
by God and his angels alone
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