Robert Lindley Poet Sonnet

The Poet's Words

The Poet's Words

The words came, and he wrote. In dreams by night
  Labor and deep grief that ages gone were dead
Stole from the past, and stood about his bed;
He sought no words; they came; he did but write.
When day was round him too, some vision bright
Or spark of glowing truth would glide between
The busy voices in a bustling scene,
Turning his heavy heart unto the light.
Whence came they? Were they gifts of long ago,
Like pansies growing on a pilgrim way?
Or but dim echoes of a vaster day
Whose harmony the happy dead may know?
That song eternal, that unwearied chime
Of seas that break around Isles of Time?

Sonnet (Classicism)

R. J. Lindley, written decades ago,
 edited and presented today- 11-27-2016


Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line:10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 	16  (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: 	 N/A
Total # Words: 	118

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White Wolf November 29, 2016 at 1:47 AM You are a true wordsmith! Loved it deeply.

Arthur Vaso November 27, 2016 at 9:52 PM You do this form so well Robert! I am often at a loss for words, I just know what I like.

Christy Stover November 27, 2016 at 9:35 PM Beautiful excellently written poem.