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Show LITTLE AGAINST BIG WORDS A Monosyllabic protest Think not that strength lies in the big round word. Or that the brief and plain must needs be weak. To whom can this be true who once has heard The cry for help, the tongue that all men speak, When want or woe or fear is in the throat, So that each word gasped out is like a shriek Pressed from the sore heart, or a strange wild note Sung by some fey or fiend? There is a strength Which dies if stretched too far or spun fine Which has more height than length. Let but this force of thought and speech be mine. And he that will may take the sleek fat phrase Which glows and burns not, though it gleam and shine - Light, but not heat - a dash, but not a blaze! Nor is it mere strength that the short word boasts, It cries for more light or storm to tell, The roar of waves that clash on rock-bound coasts, The crash of tall trees when the wild winds swell. The roar of guns, the groans of such that die On blood-stained fields. It has a voice as well For them that far off on the sick beds lie; For them that weep, for them that mourn the dead, For them that laugh and dance and clap the hand; To joy's quick step, as well as grief's slow tread, The sweet plain words we learned at first keep time And though the theme be sad or grand, With each, with all, these may be said to chime, In thought or speech or song or prose or rhyme. Prof. J. Addison Alexander, D.D. |