Classic Poem

Who shall give that hour to words?
Who shall come from the closet and give its prayer to words?
Who shall come from the bed of the bride and give its heaven to words?
Who shall come from the wrestle of self with self and give the battle to words?
Who shall love and despair or love and believe and give despair and belief to words?
Who shall drag the heart to the surface by words and leave it there to die?
Who shall tear the root from the earth and expect the tree to live?
Who shall give that hour to words?

When tried by the test of words life is bound to fail:
The songs tried by the test of words no longer sing,
The picture tried by the test of words loses all light and shade,
The skill of the worker tried by the test of words is dead and inert,
The lofty mountains tried by the test of words sink to dead levels,
The great men tried by the test of words are lost in the jostling crowd,
The affections tried by the test of words shiver in the outdoor cold:
When tried by the test of words life is bound to fail.

I cry to life when tried by the test of words: Run!
I cry to the poet when tried by the test of words: Go back to your poem!
I cry to the singer when tried by the test of words: Go back to your song!
I cry to the lover when tried by the test of words: Go back to your love!
I cry to the artist when tried by the test of words: Go back to your art!
The test of words kills, forever kills:
Nothing survives the test of words, not the smallest particle of life:
I cry to life when tried by the test of words: Run!

Words betray, words are stained red with precious human blood:
Words lure you to adventure and then abandon you in the sight of triumph,
Words promise you beautiful results and abandon you in the sight of heaven,
Words promise you love and abandon you in the sight of fruition,
Words promise you heroism and abandon you in the sight of the battle,
Words promise you worship and abandon you in the sight of the shrine,
Words promise you justice and abandon you in the sight of the commune:
Words betray, words are stained red with precious human blood.

Words that fall short of life:
The words of the book that fall short of the book,
The words of love that fall short of love,
The words of simple speech falling short of the simplest speech,
Always lagging behind, always coming along late,
Always claiming the booty, always clamoring for the reward—
Words not capital, only the tables of capital:
Words that fall short of life.

Words, words, forever the clamor of words:
Words are but signatures with which life declares its humors,
Words may run the errands of life, working for the wages of life,
Words never lead the soul, words always follow the soul,
Words are the appeal and the record but life is the hand that writes.
Are you afraid of words? do you shrink before the militant array of words?
Do not be awed by words, do not retreat before words or surrender to words,
Words are only words—you can do without them, you can do with them,
Words are only words—they could not do without you, they can only do with you:
Words, words, forever the clamor of words.

Who shall give that hour to words?
That hour of the last confession of the soul to the soul?
That hour of the last surrender of the flesh to the flesh?
That hour of holiest resolution when words have come into court and confessed words bankrupt?
That hour of consummating love when love withholds nothing from love?
That hour of confirming reverence when all the body and all the soul of man is prostrate before the lordship of life?
That hour that you know, that I know, that words can never know?
That hour of the ripeness of fruit and of those who freely eat?
That crowning hour of ecstasy in which lovers stand in the fullest light of passion and possession:
Who shall give that hour to words?