by Karyn Huntting Peters
and what when writer's words
no magic left to give
as ancient murals lost
their hues no more to live
yet not for lack of heart
to lend such hue to word
perchance for want of scale
to make heart's music heard
then poet's vain words fall
as tears from yet dry eyes
true meaning hidden e'er
as mysteries of night's skies
and only two will know
these limits of vain art
for only one can sense
the depth in poet's heart
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