UNWRITTEN HISTORY
There are romances unwritten, there are poems never penned,
There are battles all unseen and unrenowned,
There are heroines and heroes, that no record shall attend,
There are hidden histories never to be found,
There are songs unsung and comedies and tragedies untold,
There are words of grandest eloquence unsaid,
There are gems of thought and feeling that no settings ever hold,
Books unprinted, scenes unpainted, lives unread.
On the printed page encircled by the rainbow pledge of Fame,
In the paintings in the gallery of Art,
In the sea of song that surges with full many a deathless name
Are the things that thrill the World's great mind and heart.
Not alone on walls and bookshelves left by progress far behind,
Not alone on lips that once could sway with speech,
Not alone on souls and intellects to light and beauty blind
Are the World's great heart-throbs lost to thrill or teach.
Like a bird-song on the silence of the forest's slumbrous aisles,
Like a wild-flower in the weeds and grasses lost,
Like a sunbeam that unnoticed for a moment gleams and smiles,
Like a sparkling wavelet on a trackless coast,
Unheard, unseen, unnoticed in Nature's vast domain,
Save by the great Creator's ceaseless care,
Are waves of thought and feeling, of ecstasy and pain
Lost with the mists of morning on the air;
A song has surged unbidden through the cloister of a soul
And the angels, yes, the angels must have heard,
There are battles all unseen and unrenowned,
There are heroines and heroes, that no record shall attend,
There are hidden histories never to be found,
There are songs unsung and comedies and tragedies untold,
There are words of grandest eloquence unsaid,
There are gems of thought and feeling that no settings ever hold,
Books unprinted, scenes unpainted, lives unread.
On the printed page encircled by the rainbow pledge of Fame,
In the paintings in the gallery of Art,
In the sea of song that surges with full many a deathless name
Are the things that thrill the World's great mind and heart.
Not alone on walls and bookshelves left by progress far behind,
Not alone on lips that once could sway with speech,
Not alone on souls and intellects to light and beauty blind
Are the World's great heart-throbs lost to thrill or teach.
Like a bird-song on the silence of the forest's slumbrous aisles,
Like a wild-flower in the weeds and grasses lost,
Like a sunbeam that unnoticed for a moment gleams and smiles,
Like a sparkling wavelet on a trackless coast,
Unheard, unseen, unnoticed in Nature's vast domain,
Save by the great Creator's ceaseless care,
Are waves of thought and feeling, of ecstasy and pain
Lost with the mists of morning on the air;
A song has surged unbidden through the cloister of a soul
And the angels, yes, the angels must have heard,
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