English poem
The Apostrophe
by Marie Van Vorst (1867–1936)
Go, unsaid thought, wordless and songless both! With fluttering pinions, still unseen, unsought, Circle the spirit’s white flame like a moth-- Go--unsaid thought!
Go to the one by whom my soul is taught; Go--wing your joyous journey, nothing loth Like sunbeams in the hearts of lilies caught,
Like perfume that eludes, yet lingereth;-- Until your subtle mission’s fully wrought-- To charm, as a dear dream’s pale image doth,-- Go--unsaid thought!