Poems (Hoffman)/My Poem
MY POEM
If I could write it all just as I feel it—My inner life, my real though hidden self—I think no idle hand could chance unseal itAnd lay it by unread upon the shelf.
'Twould be the sweetest, saddest, grandest poemThat ever dropped in crystals, gem by gem'Twould sound to every life a living poemWritten in heart-throbs from a poet's pen.
'Twould be the highest love in power and pathos,The tenderest sympathies, the sweetest thrillsThe truest, highest sentiments and all thoseHigh outlooks from the soul's eternal hills.
'Twould hold the world in its mad rush to grovelIn competition, avarice and strifeOf party factions, from their low mind hovelThey'd see the heaven-high palaces of life.
Where through still nights God speaks and wings of angelsTemper the glory from our dazzled eyes,Where human sorrows change to sweet evangelsThat make more gentle all that in man lies.
Oh, it would be the battle hymn of nations;This poem, where'er sorrow has its place;'Twould thrill with courage in its strong vibrationsOf a life's anguish borne with patient grace!