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Poem by Eleanor Farjeon


Words and the body always have been much pain to me,
  Little fetters and drags on immensities
  Never to be defined. I am done with these.
Meanings of silence suddenly all grow plain to me.

Something still may sing like a joyous flute in me
  Out of the life that dares to be voiced aloud,
  But speech no more shall swathe like a burial-shroud
Things unencompassable now eloquent-mute in me.

Eleanor Farjeon

Eleanor Farjeon's other poems:
  1. Sonnets. 14. Now I have love again and life again
  2. Revolt
  3. Sonnets. 7. When I see two delay their wings at heaven
  4. Solitary
  5. Three Miles to Penn

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Thomas Hood Silence ("There is a silence where hath been no sound")
  • Henry King, Bishop of Chichester Silence ("Peace my hearts blab, be ever dumb")
  • Edgar Poe Silence ("There are some qualitiessome incorporate things")
  • Helen Cone Silence ("Why should I sing of earth or heaven? not rather rest")
  • Edgar Masters Silence ("I have known the silence of the stars and of the sea")

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