The Orator is Asked a Question

it is addressed thusly:
A thought.
it reads:
"I have not words for Spring," said he
The Sage unto the Orator
"I know not what the cause could be
For fall I know and old winter
And summer has long been a friend
It seems the natural idea does end
Before the thought become a word
Before the word is musical
The chord remains without a third
My lack is quite a spectacle."
The other nodded without speech
As though it were not mysterious
But perhaps the words here did not reach
Or silence befit his omnibus
Or a silent spring not from lack of birds
But in the garden were heard no words
A soft rain falling may quench the land
But with what sound pit-patters be
Heard, but now he but raised his hand;
"I have not words for Spring." said he.

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