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What magic lies in simple words,
What music hides within;
How gently on the ear doth fall
The cadences that sing.

For words have life and nascent power
To live beyond mans’ mortal hour;
They rule the mind and sway the heart
Transfiguring life by their potent art.

Like ripened grapes full crescive with wine,
They burst from their skins with nectar divine;
Or laden with filth and heavy with lies,
They stealthily poison until the soul dies.

But neither words nor pen alone,
Can strike the deep responsive tone;
For ‘tis the spirit behind the quill
Which wields the sceptre at it’s will.

Take care, therefore, and ponder well
The words you choose to write,
For they, perchance, may rise like ghosts
And, ruthless, you indict.

© 2012 Thurstan Bassett

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